


The Portrait

by DariaSilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Deathly Hallows, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:03:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 109,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DariaSilver/pseuds/DariaSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Harry discovers that Voldemort dabbled in more than Horcruxes. Slash. HP/TR. Post-Deathly Hallows. Some Drarry, but Harry/Tom end game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Genre:** Drama/Romance
> 
>  **Pairing:** Harry Potter and Tom Riddle
> 
>  **Warning:** This is a story that features a slash pairing, meaning a homosexual romantic relationship between two men. Flames are a waste of my time and yours. If you don't like slash or the pairing of Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, don't read any further.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or locations from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. All rights go to her.

 

\- Prologue -

 

A fortnight after the Final Battle, Harry received a cryptically worded summons for an audience at Gringotts:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Your presence is requested for a secret and private reading of the last will and testament of someone who wishes to remain anonymous until the reading of the will. You are to tell no one about it, as the identity of your benefactor is an extremely sensitive matter. The deceased has made you the heir and sole beneficiary of their estate. This is a confidential matter which is to remain confidential even after the reading of the will. To attend the reading, you must accept these terms. If you accept, please sign below and come to Gringotts tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock._

At the bottom of the page was a space for Harry's signature, along with the addendum that upon signing the letter, he would henceforth be bound to a magical contract that would prevent him from revealing the information contained within.

Harry stared at the parchment in his hand and frowned. Who would name him as their heir and the sole beneficiary of their estate? And who would want him to keep that information confidential? Dumbledore would probably have been the most likely candidate but his will had already been read and executed. Was it someone from the Order? Not Lupin, surely. Remus would have made Teddy his heir, not Harry. Mad-Eye? Maybe. He didn't have any children and he had cared about Harry, to the point of being overprotective even. Or ... could it be ... Snape? It was possible, Harry thought, as he scanned the contents of the Gringott's letter again. Unlikely, but possible. Snape was exactly the sort of person who would leave such mysterious and meticulously calculated instructions about the reading of his will. And who else but Severus Snape would insist on such secretive measures?

Harry deliberated for a while, leery of signing anything that would constitute a binding magical contract. But in the end he knew there wasn't really a choice.

It would just be another secret he'd have to keep.

He grimaced at the thought of the other secret, the one he knew he could never tell to another living soul: he was once again in possession of the three Deathly Hallows. After the Final Battle, he had fully intended to return the Elder Wand to its previous resting place and to leave the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest where he'd dropped it. But after thinking about it further, he realised the disastrous consequences that could happen if he left two of the Hallows in places where they could easily be found. He certainly hadn't asked for it but there was no getting around the fact that he was the one who had successfully united the Hallows, and like it or not, he was now the master of Death. As such, it was his responsibility to keep the Hallows safe.

And so it was that the evening after the Battle, Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and returned to the Forbidden Forest, Elder Wand in hand, and used a Point Me spell to find the Resurrection Stone. Ron and Hermione had gone to the Burrow with the Weasleys, but he'd begged off, telling them he was going to return the wand then go to Grimmauld Place to get some much-needed sleep. It didn't take him long to find the stone, which only seemed to confirm that he was right to get it back. Once he'd retrieved it, he walked to Hogsmeade and Apparated straight to London, then put the wand and the stone in a box and warded it with every protection spell and enchantment he could think of. As a final safeguard, he spelled it so it could only be opened with a command in Parseltongue.

And that was another secret. He was still a Parselmouth. Apparently not all of Dumbledore's theories were correct. Perhaps it was a natural gift and Harry had been born with the ability to speak the language of serpents, or if he did indeed gain the ability to speak it because he had been Voldemort's horcrux, maybe it was a language that once learned, couldn't be forgotten. In any case, it wasn't something Harry wanted anyone to know - not even Ron and Hermione. He just wanted to be normal for a change ... or at least pretend to be. Besides, there was a far bigger issue to take into account. Now that Dumbledore and Voldemort were both dead, the wizarding world would likely consider Harry to be the most powerful wizard in Britain, if not the world. Whether it was a deserved assumption or not, it was what people were going to think, and Harry knew it. He would have to be very careful about the public's perception of him, more than he ever had before.

He knew all too well that public opinion changed fast and swung from one extreme to the other, particularly when it came to him. Harry might be a hero again right now, but he knew it would just be a matter of time before people would begin focusing less on the fact that he defeated Voldemort and more on the assumption that he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, and therefore, a wizard to be feared. When things settled down, he was sure it wouldn't be long before the public started watching him with mistrust and suspicion, looking for any sign that he might be the next Dark Lord in the making. Being a known Parselmouth would only cause trouble for him. So Harry lied and told his friends that he lost the ability to speak Parseltongue when Voldemort cast the killing curse on him and destroyed the soul fragment that gave him the aptitude in the first place.

That first night at Grimmauld Place was the hardest. Thankfully, the house was intact and unharmed - Harry had spoken to Kreacher at Hogwarts after the Battle and had been surprised to learn that the house was still safely protected under the Fidelius Charm; when asked what happened with Yaxley, Kreacher explained that he had been at the house when the Death Eater appeared, and he had Apparated Yaxley out immediately and Obliviated him of the memory of its location, therefore keeping the location of number twelve a secret. Harry was glad to be home again, but he'd just seen Sirius in the Forest only hours before and the pain of losing him all over again was overwhelming. He couldn't bear the thought of staying in his godfather's old room so he decided to take Regulus' bedroom as his own. Despite being exhausted, he couldn't sleep. His mind kept replaying memories of the Battle, over and over; and he couldn't stop thinking about his parents, and Sirius, and Lupin and Tonks, and Fred, and Snape, and all the others who'd died in the battle. When he did sleep he had strange, restless dreams about the younger Tom Riddle at Hogwarts and Voldemort in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. It was a long night.

Hermione showed up the next morning, looking pale and drawn, and asked if she could stay with him for a little while. Though she and Harry were considered honourary members of the Weasley clan, neither wanted to intrude on the privacy of the grieving family who were only just beginning to mourn the devastating loss of Fred. Guilt had taken a firm hold of Harry by that point and he confided to Hermione that he wasn't sure he could bear to face anyone, especially the Weasleys. After all, it was his fault that Fred died in the first place. It was his fault that Lupin and Tonks were dead and that Teddy was now an orphan.

"How can you think that?" Hermione had said, aghast. "It was Voldemort's fault, not yours!"

Harry responded by whispering the words that Voldemort had spoken, the words that would be forever imprinted on his soul: " _You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself_."

"No, Harry! It was war, and death is an inevitable part of war," she'd said. "You can't save everyone. It's not possible. You couldn't have saved Fred or Lupin or Tonks ... or any of them. And it wasn't up to you, don't you see? They all chose to fight, and they knew what they were getting themselves into. We all did. It was their choice. Don't take that away from them. To blame yourself is to dishonour their bravery and their sacrifice."

He'd nodded, not wanting to argue. Intellectually, he understood what she was saying. But he felt like he had failed. Yes, he'd defeated Voldemort in the end, but the cost was so unbearably high. He didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself.

Ron and Ginny came over a few hours after that conversation. The moment Harry saw them, whatever control he'd had up until then shattered. Hermione must have seen it because she immediately stepped in, quietly explaining that Harry needed time to process everything that had happened.

"He died," she reminded them, her voice grim. "No one can understand what he went through, not even us."

Both Ron and Ginny tried to approach Harry then, but all he could do was shake his head and cover his face with his hands, unable to speak or even look at them. Distantly, he could hear Hermione whispering words like "survivor's guilt" and "post traumatic stress" but he barely registered what she was saying. At that moment, he felt like the worst kind of coward. Immobilised by the torrent of emotions that had taken possession of him, he could only sit there, frozen, as Hermione went on: "I think it's all just caught up with him now. Considering what he's been through, I'm sure he must be suffering from the after-effects of physical, emotional and magical shock. We have to protect him. He needs quiet, and time and space to recuperate. Everyone is going to want to bombard him with questions that he isn't ready to answer. They'll expect too much from him and you know how he is when it comes to that. He'd wear himself out trying to be what they want him to be." The whispers grew quieter then he heard her say, "No, you two should be with your family. Your mum and dad need you. George needs you. I'll stay here and look after him."

Harry felt a steady hand on his shoulder a moment later. "Mate," Ron said softly. "I understand. You take all the time you need and don't you dare for one second blame yourself for anything. Fred - " Ron's voice broke suddenly but then he cleared his throat and continued, "Fred would never forgive you if he knew you were blaming yourself." Ginny was next. "Harry?" she whispered. He tried to look at her but couldn't. "Don't worry about anything right now," she said. Harry wanted to wince at her overly bright tone. He had lost a friend, but they had lost their beloved brother. Neither should have to burden themselves with trying to comfort him. "You just take care of yourself, all right?" He managed to nod in response. Then Hermione led them away.

Hermione was a godsend, helping him get through those first few terrible days. When the surviving Order members came to check on him, she held them off, telling them that he was recovering from a curse inflicted during the Final Battle and that the private Healer who was looking after him had issued the strict decree that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

She made it her mission to take care of all the practical matters that most needed to be addressed: first, a public statement of hope and reassurance from Harry to the wizarding world and second, two interviews, for The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet, which she arranged with her usual efficiency. She sat in on both interviews, carefully monitoring the questions and answers. She and Harry had prepared for them thoroughly, having decided that the true story could never be revealed (lest anyone else get the idea to make horcruxes of their own), and they came up with an accounting of Harry's part in the war that was both believable and appeasing to the masses. During Harry's final confrontation with Voldemort, he'd talked about the horcruxes in front of everyone, but thankfully Hermione had somehow had the presence of mind to cast a Muffliato Charm around Harry and Voldemort when they started speaking, so no one had actually heard what had been said between them. In the Daily Prophet interview, Harry made an official statement when asked about it, saying that while he would not discuss the details about that last conversation, he could confirm that it left no doubt that Voldemort was defeated once and for all.

Those first few days were the hardest but Harry slowly started to come to terms with all that happened. Ever the survivor, he steeled himself to push forward and shift his focus to doing what was necessary to put himself back together. Although, that was a task easier said than done. He would never admit it to anyone, but a big part of him felt curiously empty, and he found himself wondering if that emptiness had sprung from the void the now-destroyed soul piece once occupied. He couldn't help but remember what Hermione said about him and Voldemort that one time, when he'd kept their link open and watched Voldemort question and then murder that woman during his search for Gregorovitch: " _I don't get it, Harry - do you like having this special connection or relationship or what - whatever_  - " It echoed in his head every time he felt the strange pang of emptiness inside him, and every time, he would shove the thought away, not wanting to think about it.

Besides the disturbing emptiness, Harry noticed that his magic was a bit unstable, and seemed to be overly powerful. He reckoned it had to do with his being dead and coming back to life, or maybe it was because he was the master of Death. He didn't want Hermione to know so he kept it to himself and just tried to use less power in his spells. It was something that would work itself out in time, he figured, so he wasn't too concerned about it.

At the start of the second week, Harry finally convinced Hermione that he was okay, so she went to the Burrow to be with Ron. Harry remained at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher. He attended the funerals for Fred and Lupin and Tonks, which had been heartbreaking and nearly unbearable. He made a few necessary appearances at the Death Eater trials. At the Malfoy trials, he testified on the behalf of Narcissa and Draco. It took some convincing but when Harry explained that Narcissa had saved him by lying to Voldemort during the Final Battle and that Draco had been forced to serve Voldemort but had, in his own way, tried to protect Harry on two separate occasions, the Wizengamot listened. Lucius was sent to Azkaban with all the other Death Eaters but Narcissa and Draco were both pardoned.

Harry spent the rest of his time at home. He wanted to be alone - he had a lot to think about and many decisions to make regarding his future. He talked to Kreacher a lot, about his plans to renovate the house, and about the possibility of inviting Andromeda and his now-godson, Teddy, to live there once the house was fixed up. He sometimes spoke to Phineas Nigellus, whose portrait had been returned by Hermione and now hung in the Black drawing room. Knowing from Snape's memories that Phineas had actually been working with Snape and Dumbledore and had in fact been instrumental in helping him during the war, Harry tried to thank him one time. Phineas gave him an odd look then smiled. "You like this house, don't you?" he asked unexpectedly. Harry blinked at him then nodded. "The Black House," Phineas emphasised, his eyes gleaming. "You see the Black family tapestry there," he said, pointing at it. "On that tapestry we are called The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - noble, Mr Potter. Nobility comes in many forms, sometimes in quarters one wouldn't have expected." And with that, he smiled again then walked out of the frame, presumably going back to his portrait at Hogwarts.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been formally named the official Minister of Magic and was working tirelessly to handle the aftermath, embracing the challenge of bringing order to the chaos the war had wrought with admirable aplomb and proficiency. Harry was glad someone competent was finally in charge. He trusted Kingsley and knew that there was no better person for the job.

Voldemort was dead, the war was over, and Wizarding Britain was in good hands with Kingsley at the helm. Everything was starting to come together and it looked like things were going to be all right.

But now, exactly a fortnight after the Final Battle, this Gringotts letter had come and suddenly there was a new mystery to solve.

The moment Harry signed his name and bound himself to the magical contract, a feeling of foreboding crept over him and he wondered if he'd made a grave mistake. But it was too late to change his mind; he would simply have to go and see for himself who was behind the strange summons.

 

\- Chapter 1 -

 

The next morning Harry arrived at Gringotts quite early, having a few other matters to take care of first. He was a bit worried initially about how his presence would be received due to the trio's successful break-in and subsequent escape from the Wizarding Bank roughly two weeks prior, but none of the goblins said anything about it to him; instead, he was met with an odd sort of indifference, although he did glimpse a few scowls and even a few looks of reluctant admiration on some of the goblins' faces. The first thing Harry did was pay a visit to his trust vault, where he deposited the box containing the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand. Grimmauld Place had been a safe enough place to hide them short term, but he could think of no safer place for the long term than his vault.

When he returned to the Gringotts lobby, he asked to speak to the goblin in charge of the Potter account. Minutes later, he was introduced to Morbek, the manager of the Potter estate. The goblin led Harry to a private room and once they were alone, Harry got straight to the point.

"I was wondering if my parents left a copy of their will here at Gringotts," he began, and when Morbek nodded in the affirmative he continued, "I have been of age for almost a year but because of the war, this is my first opportunity to meet with you to discuss my inheritance. I wanted to talk about my trust vault ... and anything else I might have inherited now that I'm legally an adult."

The goblin laughed. "Oh yes, you've inherited more than the trust vault, Mr Potter," he said with an amused grin. "And we will go over all the particulars, rest assured. However, you might want to call for Argrod, the manager of the Black estate. I would suggest that you ask that he join us after we discuss the more private details of your holdings as the Potter Heir."

An hour later, Harry left the room, his mind reeling. He'd had to conclude the meeting with Morbek and Argrod because the time had come for his appointment for the reading of the mysterious will, but as he followed the goblin who was presently escorting him to the place where the will was to be read, all Harry could think about was what he had just learned. His whole world had just been thrown off-kilter, with one staggering revelation that had shocked him to the core.

He'd been surprised to learn that he had inherited a fairly sizable fortune as the Potter Heir, including various holdings and properties he'd never known about. But, the real shock was finding out that he was also the Black Heir. Harry had been caught completely off guard when he was told the startling facts about his paternal grandparents. Apparently, his grandfather, Charlus Potter, had married Dorea Black, who was the aunt of Sirius' mother, Walburga. James Potter had been Walburga's first cousin! Harry could scarcely believe it. He'd had family in the wizarding world all along. And worse, no one had told him. Why? Why hadn't Sirius told him that he wasn't merely Harry's godfather, but in fact his actual family - his second cousin? Why had no one ever told him he was related to Sirius by blood, or that he was blood-related to an equal degree to Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks? Why had no one told him he was also blood-related to Nymphadora Tonks and his godson Teddy? Why had it been kept secret?

During the meeting with Argrod, Harry learned that he and Draco Malfoy had been equally entitled to claim the position as Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black when Sirius died, because at the time, they were the last two living male blood descendents of Cygnus and Violetta Black. But Sirius had named Harry as his heir, so it had all become his, not just by magic, but by blood and birthright.

Harry had no more time to think on it, for he suddenly found himself standing in front of a door. The goblin opened it and gestured for him to go in. Harry peeked inside and saw that the room was empty, save for a table and two chairs. The goblin ushered him inside, and after telling Harry to sit down and wait, he gave a small bow then left, closing the door behind him. Moments later, the door opened again, and a stern-faced goblin entered.

"Mr Potter," he said with a curt nod, taking the other seat. "I am Ulbrok, the executor of your benefactor's estate. You are here for the reading of the last will and testament of someone who took many precautions regarding the inheritance bequeathed to you. One of those precautions was put in place to ensure your acceptance of said inheritance," he said with a nasty smile. "To summarise, you will find you have no choice but to agree to the terms your benefactor insisted upon."

Harry stared at him in surprise. "What terms? Who is this benefactor?"

"You'll know in due time," Ulbrok said. "The first order of business is to take you to the vault. There is something you must see there which shall explain everything." The goblin stood.

"This is highly irregular, I'm sure," Harry said with a frown, getting to his feet.

"Irregular ... yes," Ulbrok said. "But you must be used to such things, Mr Potter. You are, after all, The Boy Who Lived ... and now, The One Who Defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldemort," Harry corrected. There was no taboo on the name anymore and he refused to refer to the dead Dark Lord as anything other than Voldemort.

"Very bold," the goblin murmured. "We'll see how brave you are when you hear the terms of your bequeathment." His mouth curled up in an ugly smile. "Now, come along, Mr Potter. It's time to see what you have inherited."

Harry followed, growing more nervous with each step. Who was behind all this? Was it Snape? Or was it someone far more sinister? A fallen Death Eater getting their last revenge? They entered the hallway that led to the vaults. Ulbrok called for a cart and within seconds, it arrived and they climbed aboard; then the cart lurched forward and began whizzing along full throttle, hurtling through the twisted passages, until finally it grinded to a halt in front of vault 853.

"Here we are," Ulbrok said. They exited the cart and approached the door. Ulbrok grinned then turned and stroked the door with his long, gnarled fingers until it vanished and the entrance to the vault appeared. Harry looked inside: the front of the vault looked like a library; there were several bookcases filled top to bottom with books, positioned in such a way that Harry couldn't see what lay beyond them. "Go on," the goblin urged, his eyes shining with what appeared to be anticipation. "You may go in now."

"Hang on! I'm not just going in there," Harry protested, balking at the idea of entering an unknown vault, especially under the circumstances, which were creepy at best and potentially deadly at worst. "This could be a trap. Who knows what's in there!"

"No need to worry, Mr Potter. The moment you signed that letter, you became heir to this vault, and as such, nothing in it can harm you," Ulbrok asserted. At Harry's doubtful look, the goblin raised a hand and intoned, "I hereby swear on my magic that Harry Potter will be safe while inside the vault. So mote it be."

Harry hesitated for another moment, but finally decided it was best to just get it over with.

He stepped inside. It was dark beyond the bookcases, so he cast a  _Lumos_  as he made his way forward. He had little time to get a good look around, because suddenly a cold, high-pitched voice said, "Ah! Harry Potter. You are here at last!"


	2. Chapter 2

  
Harry spun around, eyes wide, and could only stare in horror at the sight before him. Leaning against the wall was a life-sized portrait of Tom Riddle, who was staring back at him with an inscrutable expression.

"You!" Harry cried, shocked. "What the hell? _You're_ my benefactor?" He gaped at the painting, flabbergasted.

"This wasn't my doing, Potter," Tom said quietly. "It was _his_." He turned and pointed to a mirror in the portrait, which Harry hadn't noticed yet. And that's when Harry saw it: standing in the mirror, smiling at him with malevolent glee, was Voldemort.

No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. "What madness is this?" Harry whispered, staring at the rather solid-looking reflection of the wizard he'd defeated. 

Voldemort rubbed his hands together in malicious delight. "You did not think I would have relied solely on my Horcruxes, did you?" he asked triumphantly.

Harry looked wildly at Tom, who was eyeing Voldemort with distaste. "But ... how can it be ... It doesn't make sense, " he stammered. "How is it that you're here too?" he asked Tom.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious, Potter? This was my portrait originally, but he added himself to it."

"Keep silent, boy!" Voldemort ordered sharply, glaring at Tom. "I am the one who will speak to Potter, not you!"

An expression of pure loathing crossed over Tom's face as he looked into the mirror and gave a mocking bow. "As you wish," he said coldly.

"Do not _dare_ sass me, Riddle!" Voldemort said, his eyes flashing. "I kept you because you were of use to me but I am certain I can find a way to get rid of you if you do not mind your attitude!"

The animosity between them was so palpable, Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Oh Merlin, this is rich," he said. "You're stuck together in this portrait ... and you hate each other. It must be a nightmare - for you, Tom, seeing what you became. And for you, Voldemort, you must absolutely hate seeing your younger, more human self. Tom is young and handsome, after all, and you're foul!"

"Laugh it up while you can, Potter," Voldemort hissed softly. "Because you will find that you too are stuck with the both of us, and I can assure you, I can make it a very unpleasant experience for you."

"I don't think so," Harry replied. He turned to Ulbrok, who had come in behind him. "I refuse to accept this inheritance," he told the goblin firmly. "Take me back, I'm done here."

"Now, now! Not so fast, Potter," Voldemort said. "Do you think you can just walk away from this?"

"Yes, I do," Harry informed him calmly. He turned back to the goblin. "Let's go," he said. "I've had enough of this."

"I think you'll want to hear the terms of your inheritance, Mr Potter," Ulbrok said. "As I told you before, you will find that certain precautions were made to ensure that you accept what you have been bequeathed."

"Indeed," Voldemort said. "You have no choice, Potter. I have seen to that!"

Harry spun around and glared at the figure in the portrait's mirror. "Why don't you explain it to me then," he snapped.

"It is simple really," Voldemort said. "You accept my terms, as laid out in my will, or before the day is out, the entire wizarding world will learn that you are Lord Voldemort's Heir. They will also be informed that we were secretly working together but then you betrayed me and killed me to get me out of the way so you could take over as the new Dark Lord."

Harry stared at him, aghast. "You're insane!" he cried. "There's no way people would believe that of me!"

"Really?" Voldemort's tone suggested otherwise.

Harry opened his mouth to argue ... but Voldemort was right. Of course the public would believe it. They had turned against him before, and they would do it again. It wouldn't take much. He sagged in defeat. "But I didn't even kill you, not properly," Harry whispered.

"No? What happened then? How did I die?"

"You don't know?"

"I have no memory of our battle," Voldemort said. "I only remember up to the point just before I went to Hogwarts to check on the Diadem. So tell me, what happened exactly? How did I die?"

"We duelled," Harry said. "I cast Expelliarmus at the same time that you cast the Killing Curse, and I won."

"How is that possible?" Voldemort said incredulously. "How could a mere _disarming charm_ win against the Killing Curse? That is not possible!"

"Your curse backfired on you," Harry said. "You thought you were the master of the Elder Wand because you stole it from Dumbledore's tomb, but you were wrong. When it wasn't working properly, you thought Snape was its master so you killed him. But really it was Draco Malfoy who was the master of the wand, because he was the one who won it from Dumbledore. And I disarmed Draco and won the wand's allegiance before you even got a hold of it."

" _He will have power the Dark Lord knows not_ ," Voldemort said slowly, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I see now. When I used the wand to curse you, it refused to turn on you - its true master." He gazed at Harry, his eyes intent. "And clearly you destroyed all of my Horcruxes or I would not be here. How ... unexpected of you. Perhaps you are more intelligent than I had given you credit for. Ever since I woke up in this portrait, I have wondered how you managed to defeat me."

"It's all he's talked about," Tom said under his breath, though it was loud enough to still be heard.

"I thought I told you to shut up!" Voldemort said furiously.

"You shut up!" Tom snapped. "I'm sick of hearing you talk!"

Harry snickered.

"So help me, boy, I will find a way to remove you from this portrait!"

"By all means, please do," Tom said icily. "Anything is better than being stuck here with you."

"How dare you insult Lord Voldemort! You are nothing, A child. A pitiful orphan with more ambition than power or knowledge. _I_ am the one who became the Dark Lord. You are a disgrace and an embarrassment. Even Potter is more worthy to speak to me," Voldemort said cuttingly. "I will not tolerate any more of your insolence."

"You're pathetic," Tom said, turning his back to the mirror.

"Wow!" Harry interjected. He looked at Tom and shook his head. "I actually feel sorry for you, Tom. Really."

Tom looked at him but said nothing, his expression cold.

Harry plowed on. "How old are you anyway? You don't look much older than the Tom from the Diary Horcrux."

"Silence, both of you!" Voldemort hissed. "I shall do the talking here."

"I met the 'Diary you' in my second year," Harry continued, ignoring Voldemort completely. "You had me fooled at first. I wrote to you in the diary and you pretended to help me, when I asked you about the Chamber of Secrets being opened in your time. Then I met you in the Chamber and found you draining the life out of my friend."

"The blood traitor, Ginevra Weasley," Voldemort said softly. "I did hear of that. Lucius, the fool, gave the diary to her. Friend, you say - I thought she was your girlfriend," he sneered.

"Not presently," Harry muttered.

"Oh! Finally over your 'mummy issues', are you?"

"What? What does that mean?" Harry exclaimed.

"Ginevra Weasley - red hair, fiery temper, a Gryffindor? Have you not noticed? She is just like your mother."

At the mention of his mother, Harry lost it. "Don't you dare talk about my mother!" he shouted. "Or Ginny!"

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. So what if there were similarities between his mother and Ginny? That didn't mean anything.

Voldemort merely smiled knowingly.

"What happened in the Chamber?" Tom asked suddenly. "After you met the soul fragment from the diary Horcrux?"

"You set the basilisk on me and I killed it then stabbed the diary with one of its fangs." Harry cast a spiteful look at Voldemort and said, "And that was the end of _that_ Horcrux."

"Enough chit-chat!" Voldemort said coldly. "Let us discuss the business at hand, shall we? Potter, you are now my Heir and as such, you have inherited my entire estate: my fortune, my properties, all of my magical artifacts, books, and possessions ... everything. You will accept this bequeathment or suffer the consequences. I have already explained the first stage of what would happen if you defy me, but believe me, there is more if that is not enough to sway you. But really, there is no need to dwell on such matters. You will accept gracefully, so let us proceed to the next step."

"Hang on! Which one of you am I inheriting everything from? Legally, am I the heir of Voldemort or Tom Riddle?" Harry asked.

"Both," Voldemort answered. "But the actual estate is under the name Tom Marvolo Riddle," he conceded. He glared at his younger self as if daring him to speak. Tom glared back at him but remained silent. "Now, on to the next order of business. You are to carry out the first and most important stipulation of my will, effective immediately."

"And what is that?" Harry asked.

"You will sign the papers that Ulbrok has prepared, accepting my terms and ensuring the secrecy of your status as my Heir, then you will shrink this portrait and take it home with you. You will then be required to unshrink the portrait and hang it in a room that you frequent daily."

"What?" Harry cried. "There's no way I'm going to do that! Some of my friends know exactly who Tom Riddle is and what he looks like, and everyone knows who _you_ are! Do you think I'm stupid? This is obviously a trap!"

"Calm down, you stupid boy. I have enchanted the portrait to only show myself and Tom to you ... and Ulbrok, of course. Everyone else will see a perfectly common pastoral scene of a wizarding village in the Cotswolds. No one will be able to see or hear us."

Harry stared at Voldemort and then turned to Ulbrok. "Is that true? What protections do I have? What assurances can you give me that this isn't a trap?"

The goblin smiled. "Very good, Mr Potter. You know how to ask the right questions. The paperwork I have prepared for you will ensure that all parties are protected. Once you sign them, you will all be bound to a magical contract that will keep everything confidential. This includes me, as manager of the estate; I am bound by the same confidentiality contract. Your benefactor has already signed them, for his part."

"That doesn't even make sense. They're dead. How does a magical contract even apply to them?"

"Oh dear," Voldemort said with a cruel smile. "It appears that you do not understand. We are not dead exactly. I am dead enough that it registered legally, enough to activate my last will and testament. I am dead enough that I am here, in this portrait. But I am not dead. Not altogether. Did you think this was just an ordinary magical portrait? No, boy! My magic is still alive."

Harry gaped at him. "What do you mean?"

Tom sighed. "Really, Potter, how thick are you?"

"Excuse me for being a little confused! This is hardly a normal situation!" Harry said hotly.

"What Voldemort is trying to tell you is that neither he nor I are entirely dead; our magic is still alive, preserved in this portrait," Tom said. "As you may or may not know, I made my first two Horcruxes while still attending Hogwarts. After I graduated, I dedicated myself to learning everything I could about other ways to safeguard my immortality. Not wanting to rely solely on my Horcruxes, I learned of some other schools of rare magic. I had this portrait painted, and when it was finished, I added certain enchantments to it using the new magic I discovered."

"Yes, how kind of you to explain, Tom," Voldemort sneered. "Allow me to elucidate further. Tom then put the portrait in this vault. After I was resurrected, I retrieved the portrait and had the mirror likeness added, then I performed further enchantments on it using an even more advanced kind of magic. Then, when I discovered you had started destroying my Horcruxes, I returned to the vault and cast the final spells on the portrait, thus ensuring that my immortality was still secure."

"So it's like a Horcrux?" Harry asked in horrified whisper. "You can still come back?"

"Indeed I can. But you needn't worry about that at the moment. Only you have the power to resurrect me, and somehow I do not imagine I would have much success convincing you to do so any time soon."

"What about Tom? Can he be resurrected too?"

"Yes," Tom answered softly.

"No. He cannot!" Voldemort hissed. "Do not listen to him, Potter. He knows less than he thinks he does."

"Shut up!" Tom growled. "You're lying and you know it. Of course I can be resurrected, Potter. We both can. It's one or the other though - me or him."

"How about neither?" Harry yelled. This was ridiculous. "You're both mad! Do either of you honestly think I'm actually going to resurrect you?"

"We can talk about this later," Voldemort said. "Sign the papers so we can get out of this filthy vault. It is worse than a tomb in here and I am tired of it."

Harry looked at Ulbrok. "Do you have the papers? I'm not saying I'm going to sign them but I'll have a look at them if you have them on hand."

The goblin reached inside his robes and pulled out a rolled parchment then gave it to Harry.

"Swear on your magic that this isn't a trap," Harry ordered. "Swear that there aren't any hidden clauses or conditions that will bind me to doing anything against my free will, besides accepting the inheritance and keeping the portrait with me. Swear that my accepting the inheritance and the portrait is all I need to do to keep this all a secret."

Ulbrok raised his hand and recited the vow, repeating Harry's exact words, and when Harry saw the spark of magic confirming that the vow was in effect, he opened the parchment and read through it.

"All right, I'll sign," he said wearily when he'd finished. "I've had enough of this and I want to go home."

Ulbrok handed him a self-inking quill.

Harry signed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting on his bed at Grimmauld Place, Harry stared at the newly hung portrait. "This is too weird," he finally declared. "Putting it in the bedroom was a bad idea. How am I supposed to sleep with the two of you just standing there watching me?"

"Oh, do stop whinging, Potter," Voldemort said distractedly as he gazed out from his mirror and took in his new surroundings. "Slytherin colours," he noted approvingly, a contented look on his face.

"Is that all you think about? How Slytherin or un-Slytherin everything is? That's pathetic," Harry said, scowling. "Anyway, as I was saying, how am I supposed to get any sleep in here with you two gawking at me?"

"Lord Voldemort does not 'gawk', Potter."

"Will you stop referring to yourself in third person all the time?" Harry said irritably. "It's really annoying."

Tom smirked. "You don't have to worry about me, Potter. I can move about the house through the other portraits," he said, casting a smug look at Voldemort. "I'll just occupy myself elsewhere when you're sleeping."

"You can leave the portrait?" Harry asked in alarm. "The other portraits will be able to see you?"

"If I visit them, they can," Tom replied. "Though no one can enter this portrait. There are too many enchantments on it for that."

"You can't visit the other portraits!" Harry said sharply. "Phineas Nigellus has a portrait here, and one at Hogwarts as well. He knows who you are and if he saw you he'd tell Dumbledore and McGonagall, then everyone will find out about this."

"Fine. I'll be very careful and avoid his portrait. Surely there are others I can visit."

"There's also Walburga. Wasn't she at Hogwarts when you were there?"

"Ah, yes, Walburga Black. I remember her," Tom said. "She was a year above me at Hogwarts. A rather unpleasant girl, who I understand didn't improve with age."

"She's a right bitch," Harry muttered. He couldn't help but add, "And I just found out that I'm related to her. She was my father's first cousin."

"Oh?" Voldemort said suddenly, his crimson eyes alight with interest. Then he laughed.

"What?" Harry snapped, annoyed. "What's so funny?"

"You are related to Bellatrix."

"Correction. I was related to her. She's dead," Harry said flatly.

"Is she? My dear Bella. No doubt she died bravely in battle serving her Lord."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you even know how ridiculous you sound? A self-proclaimed Lord isn't really a Lord, first of all. But hey! If you could do it, maybe I can too - I can start calling myself King Harry. How about that?" He smiled suddenly. "Voldemort," he intoned dramatically, putting on a regal air. "I am King Harry, and I command that you bow to me. From this day forward, you shall address me as Your Majesty!"

Tom chuckled.

"Don't be absurd, Potter," Voldemort sniffed.

"I have to admit, it does seem rather silly when hearing it put like that," Tom said. "I don't know what I was thinking." He looked at Voldemort, who was scowling now. "I can't believe you went on with it. It's so embarrassingly puerile!"

Harry laughed at the affronted look on Voldemort's face.

"Shut up, both of you!" Voldemort hissed.

"Really, Voldemort! That's no way to speak to your King," Harry said with a wicked grin. He pointed his wand at one of the pillows and transfigured it into a crown which he put on his head, then after a moment's thought, he transfigured a quill from his bedside table into a sceptre. "You!" he said, waving the sceptre at Voldemort. "You will show me the proper respect, you miserable creature! All hail King Harry!" he cried.

Tom's lips quirked up in amusement and Harry smiled at him. The smile left his face abruptly when Kreacher suddenly popped into the room.

"Master!" Kreacher said. "Were you wanting something? Kreacher heard you call."

"Oh! Er ... no ..." Harry mumbled, feeling his cheeks heating up. "I was just messing around."

Tom and Voldemort both chuckled as Harry hastened to remove the crown from his head then stuffed it behind him. "Um ... Kreacher ... what do you think of that painting?" he asked, gesturing to the portrait.

The house-elf glanced at it then gave him an odd look. "It is a fine painting, Master," he said.

"And what is it that you see exactly?"

"It is a painting of fields with a forest in the distance," Kreacher replied with a frown. "Is Master Harry feeling well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just ... wondered if you thought it looked nice in here."

"Pathetic, Potter," Voldemort sneered.

"Did you just hear that?" Harry asked the house-elf.

"Hear what?" Kreacher asked, furrowing his brow.

"Er ... nothing. My stomach just grumbled. I guess I'm hungry," he finished lamely.

Voldemort laughed.

"Kreacher can make Master something to eat."

Harry nodded, then realised he actually was a bit peckish. "That sounds good. I'd love a sandwich. Thank you. But don't Apparate in; from now on, if you want to come in this room, come to the door and knock first."

"Yes, Master."

The house-elf was about to go when Harry suddenly remembered something. "Wait! Kreacher, did you know that my father was the cousin of your former Mistress?"

"Kreacher's former Mistress?"

"Walburga Black," Harry said. "My father was her cousin. Did you know that?"

The house-elf's eyes bulged. "No. Kreacher did not know that. So ... Master is a true Black, by blood?" he asked excitedly.

"Apparently I am. My grandfather was Charlus Potter, who married Dorea Black. She was the daughter of Cygnus and Violetta Black, and granddaughter of Phineas Nigellus."

"Oh, Master!" Kreacher cried, falling to his knees. "My Master is the grandson of Phineas Nigellus Black?"

"Well ... great-great-grandson, I suppose," Harry said, trying to work it out.

Kreacher could barely contain himself.

"Please, calm yourself, Kreacher," Harry said. "I've only just found out so I don't know all the details yet. I suppose I should pay a visit to my great-great grandfather's portrait and find out why he neglected to tell me I was his rightful Heir," he mused with a frown. Why hadn't he told Harry? In his own way, Phineas seemed to be almost fond of Harry now, and Harry enjoyed talking to him, despite the old man's cryptic remarks and strange behavior of late ... all of which suddenly made sense. It seemed he had been giving Harry clues about his heritage, but why? Why not just tell him straight out?

Kreacher was practically shaking with excitement.

"Er ... I could really do with that sandwich now," Harry told him. The house-elf's reaction was making him uncomfortable. "That will be all," he said with a commanding nod.

"Yes, Master! Kreacher will make the sandwich now!" He disappeared with a loud crack.

"Merlin," Harry said after casting a Muffliato Charm, "I'll never get used to the way house-elves grovel." He looked disdainfully at Voldemort. "I know you liked everyone to grovel at your feet, kissing the hem of your robes, but I think it's horrible when anyone acts that way. It's so demeaning."

"You are too soft, boy," Voldemort replied. "You have so much power and yet you do not know how to use it ... or you refuse to. I do not know which is worse."

" _With great power, comes great responsibility_ ," Harry quoted. "Not that you'd understand."

"And what precisely do you mean by that?" Voldemort asked.

"Well, look at you and Dumbledore. Both of you had great power and both of you misused it. And where did it get either of you in the end? Dead. But it's the wizarding world who has to pay for it now. It's all a mess, thanks to the two of you."

"Ah! It appears the little puppet has shed his illusions about the old fool."

"Those illusions were shattered a while ago. I can't bring myself to hate him for the things he did but I do admit, I am still angry with Dumbledore for all his manipulations and machinations, and for the way he controlled every aspect of my life." He looked at Tom. "And I'm angry with him for ignoring the needs of two orphan boys, both of whom asked to stay at Hogwarts during the summers, for good reason. He could have helped but he didn't."

Tom's eyes widened at that, but Voldemort got enraged. "Do not dare speak of that time in my life, Potter," he hissed.

"I wasn't talking to you," Harry retorted. "I was speaking to Tom." He turned his gaze to the young man in the portrait. "I know more about you than you probably think. I know you asked to stay at Hogwarts during the summers so you wouldn't have to go back to the orphanage. I can only imagine how awful it must have been to have to live in a Muggle orphanage during World War II, with all the bombings going on in London at the time. It must have been a terrifying experience."

Tom's expression hardened. "You don't know anything about me, Potter," he said coldly.

"Yes, I do. I know a lot. And I've seen things ... Pensieve memories about you and your life. I've seen a Pensieve memory of your mother, Merope. It was very sad. She had a hard life."

Both Tom and Voldemort looked startled by that information. "You saw my mother?" Tom asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"Don't be so sentimental, boy!" Voldemort said to Tom in a derisive tone, but he too looked shaken. "Perhaps you can show us that memory, Potter," he suggested, in a manner far too casual than his demeanour indicated.

"How would I do that?"

"I can teach you a spell that shows memories outside a Pensieve, much like a Muggle film projector."

A knock at the door stopped Harry from replying.

He cancelled the Muffliato Charm and called out, "Come in!"

The door opened and Kreacher came in, carrying a tray that held a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Kreacher made all of Master's favourites," the house-elf announced proudly, gazing at Harry with a worshipful expression.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the tray. "These look lovely."

"Master is being kind. Master is too good to Kreacher," the house-elf wailed suddenly, throwing himself to the floor. "Kreacher is ashamed for being a bad house-elf to his Master." He wailed again and began banging his head against the floor.

"Kreacher, _stop_!" Harry said. "I don't want you to punish yourself. Get up," he commanded. When the house-elf obeyed, Harry said, "What happened in the past is over. I know Sirius was horrible to you, and when you became my house-elf, I wasn't very nice to you because of what you did to him, but we got past all that ages ago, didn't we?"

"Yes, Master," Kreacher croaked.

"For pity's sake! Get rid of the elf, Potter!" Voldemort snapped impatiently. "We have things to discuss."

"Er ... okay then. That will be all," Harry said to Kreacher. "You can go now."

"Yes, Master." Kreacher stared at him for a moment. "But Master has a visitor."

"What? I do?"

The answer came in the form of a soft knock on the door. "Harry?"

"Ginny? Is that you?"

The door opened and Ginny peeked her head in. "Are you busy?" she asked as Kreacher bowed then disappeared with a crack.

"I was just about to have lunch," he answered, holding up the tray and showing her the plate of sandwiches.

Ginny came into the room and smiled at him. "Those look good. Can I have one?" she said, sitting down beside him on the bed.

"Sure. Help yourself." He sneaked a look at the portrait and saw that Tom and Voldemort were both watching them intently, identical expressions of irritation on their faces.

Ginny grabbed a sandwich. "So ... how are you?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "It's been a long morning, to be honest."

She gave him a look of sympathy then put her sandwich back on the plate and took the tray from Harry, placing it behind them in the middle of the bed. "You need a hug," she said. "I can tell." Before Harry could say anything, she wrapped her arms around him.

He hugged her back somewhat stiffly, aware that Tom and Voldemort were watching. He couldn't help but think about what Voldemort said about Ginny being like his mother.

"I've missed you," Ginny whispered. "So much." She pulled back to look at him then leaned forward suddenly to kiss him.

Harry couldn't help it; the moment her lips touched his, he recoiled.

Voldemort laughed. "It is like kissing your mother, isn't it?"

Harry wanted to deny it, but as he gazed at Ginny's hurt expression, all he could see was his mum, walking beside him in the Forest as he went to meet his death. "Oh God," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Ginny. It's not you. Honestly. I ... I've just had a really weird day."

She put on a brave face and nodded understandingly. "What happened?"

"I spent the morning at Gringotts meeting with the goblins in charge of the Potter estate and the Black estate. Now that I'm of age and a legal adult in the wizarding world, I wanted to discuss my inheritance from my parents and from Sirius. I found out some really shocking information."

"What did you find out?" 

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

There was an awkward silence, and Harry realised his tone had been more abrupt than he'd intended. "I want to know more of the details first," he said more gently.

She nodded. "Okay," she said quietly.

He glanced at the portrait.

Ginny followed his line of sight. "I don't remember seeing that painting before," she said, staring at it. "Where did it come from?"

"Um ... I found it in one of the vaults I inherited."

"A very Slytherin answer, Potter," Voldemort said. "I am impressed."

Tom nodded in agreement.

"It's pretty," Ginny said softly.

"Thanks," Harry managed to say. He was so tense and uncomfortable, he found himself squirming. "So, listen, Gin ... like I said, I had a really trying morning. Can we talk later? Why don't you come back tonight? And ask Ron and Hermione to come too. I want to tell the three of you together ... about what I found out today."

She frowned slightly but said, "Sure, Harry. It must be something pretty big, judging from the way you're acting. But I won't pry. If you want to wait until later to tell me ... us ... that's fine."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Thank, Gin."

She smiled, but he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were sad. "So ... I'll see you later then, yeah?" she said.

"Yeah. Around eight?"

She nodded. "I'll tell Ron and Hermione." She got to her feet then leaned down and kissed his cheek.

He tensed and hoped she didn't notice. "Okay. I'll see you later then."

After she left Harry hastily cast a Muffliato Charm, then he exploded. "Thanks a lot!" he shouted at Voldemort.

"What?" he said innocently.

"You know what, you bloody bastard!" Harry yelled. "Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

"And what precisely did I ruin, Potter? Your fantasy? Your illusions? I would have thought that you would rather know the truth. I merely pointed out that the girl bears a remarkable resemblance to your mother. Was I wrong? Or would you rather go on lying to yourself?"

"Fuck!" Harry shouted, though he wasn't directing it at Voldemort.

"I am sure you have had to face far worse things. Like me, for example."

For some reason, that made Harry laugh. "You are such an egomaniac. Honestly!" He sat back down on the bed. "Shit," he said, putting his head in his hands. "What am I going to do?" he whispered. "What am I going to do?" Infuriating and upsetting as it was, now that he'd been made aware of it, Harry couldn't help but see that Voldemort was right; Ginny did look a lot like Lily, certainly in physical appearance. How could he not have seen that?

"Perhaps we can now get back to the topic we were discussing before we were interrupted," Voldemort proposed.

"For God's sake! I'm having a crisis right now. I have to work out my 'mummy issues', as you so charmingly put it! _Yours_ can wait a minute!"

"Fine," Voldemort bit out.

Harry put his head back in his hands and began to think about the similarities between his mum and Ginny. There were so many. He cringed; how did he not see it before? He had to face it - it was as if a veil had been lifted and now he could suddenly see the truth. He felt sick. What was wrong with him?

After a long silence, Tom finally spoke. "I think he's having a breakdown of some kind."

"Nonsense!" Voldemort said. "It is Potter. He might be an overly emotional Gryffindor but he can handle this ... trifle. He is strong."

"Maybe I'm not," Harry muttered.

"Of course you are. How many times did you face me? Me, the greatest wizard of all time! And every time, you never backed down. You are reckless and stupid, but never doubt that you are strong."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said. "I was referring to my being a Gryffindor. I don't know if I really am one. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. I told it to put me anywhere else, so it put me in Gryffindor. But maybe I really  _was_  meant to be a Slytherin. I always wondered why the Hat wanted to put me there, then later I thought it was because of you, because of the soul link. But then that was destroyed and ... I don't know anymore. I'm still a Parselmouth. I have all these secrets, and I've lied to my best friends about them. Perhaps I'm not what I thought I was."

"What are you talking about, boy? Soul link? What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, right. I guess you wouldn't know, would you?" Harry said thoughtfully. "I was one of your Horcruxes."


	4. Chapter 4

Tom inhaled sharply. "You were a Horcrux?" He looked shocked.

Voldemort merely stared at Harry, his red eyes glowing unnaturally.

"Er ... you didn't know that, did you?" Harry said nervously. The way Voldemort was looking at him, so still and silent and unreadable, was creeping him out.

"A _human_ Horcrux," Tom murmured, his brow furrowed in thoughtful contemplation. "How is that possible?" he asked.

"When I was a baby and Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me, somehow when it backfired and rebounded on him ... I don't know exactly, but something happened and I inadvertantly became a Horcrux." Harry frowned, trying to remember Dumbledore's exact words. "One of the theories I was told is that Voldemort had made so many Horcruxes, and split his soul so many times, it had rendered it unstable. After killing my parents and attempting to kill me, when he cast the Killing Curse and it rebounded on him, a fragment of his soul broke apart from what was left of the whole and attached itself to the only living soul in the vicinity. Me."

"Hmmm," was Tom's pensive response. "Yes, I suppose that's plausible."

Voldemort remained silent.

"I don't know if that's really how it happened. It's just a theory."

"And what exactly makes you so sure you were a Horcrux at all?" Voldemort finally asked. "What proof do you have?"

"Well, there was the link between our minds, for a start," Harry said. "My scar would hurt whenever you were near me, and even when you weren't. Did you know it always hurt when you were angry, and that I could feel what you were feeling if it was a strong emotion, like anger or fear or triumph? I'm sure you knew that the mind link went both ways."

Voldemort nodded. "I did."

"Before I got better at Occlumency, I had visions where I would see things through your eyes. I could see what you were doing, but it was more than that - I saw everything and felt it as if I were you. When it first started happening, I thought I was being possessed by you and that I was actually doing those things myself. And once, the night Arthur Weasley was attacked by Nagini at the Department of Mysteries, I saw and felt everything from _her_ point of view, because you were possessing her."

"This is quite fascinating," Tom said. "Truly fascinating."

"There's more," Harry said tentatively.

"Well?" Voldemort hissed when Harry didn't continue. "Spit it out, boy!"

"Er ... during the Final Battle, you had Nagini kill Snape because you thought he was the master of the Elder Wand. Before he died, he gave me his memories. Snape was actually a triple spy - he was really on my side, I soon discovered. I went to the Headmaster's office and viewed the memories in the Pensieve. That's how I found out I was a Horcrux, and that Dumbledore expected me to sacrifice myself so that you could be defeated. Despite feeling angry and betrayed, as I'm sure you can imagine, I was prepared to do what was necessary. And when you called for me and told me to come out and face you, I went, knowing I was going to die, and I let you kill me."

Tom looked incredulous at that. "How could you do such a thing? How could you sacrifice yourself like that?"

"I had just watched several of my friends get killed in the battle. It was the only way to put an end to everything. I figured Voldemort would kill me, destroying the soul fragment in the process, and that someone else would step up to face him and then finish it."

"And what happened when you let me kill you?" Voldemort asked in a strained voice.

"I died. Sort of. But then I came back to life, because I had willingly sacrificed myself, much like my mother did."

"Explain," Voldemort said, eerily reminding Harry of himself, for he recalled saying the exact same thing to Dumbledore.

"After you cast the Killing Curse on me, I found myself in a sort of limbo, which oddly, took the form of King's Cross station. Dumbledore was there - "

"Of course!" Voldemort interrupted with a sneer. "Of course the old man was there, the insufferable fool! Always interfering, even from the grave."

"Um ... yeah. He told me that when you killed me, you destroyed the part of your soul that had been inside me, and that my soul was now whole and completely my own. He said I was still alive, because you used my blood when you resurrected yourself in the graveyard, and my mother's protection was still in effect. Because my blood flowed through your veins, the protection was inside us both. You were still alive, and that kept me tethered to life too. So I was given a choice: to go back or go ... on ..." Harry looked at Voldemort. "I chose to return and face you again."

"I would like to see these memories," Voldemort said. "The Pensieve memories of the traitor, Severus Snape, which will present themselves as memories within a memory, and your own memories of the Final Battle, including your time in limbo."

Harry thought about it. He had mastered Occlumency, enough to be able to contain and isolate his memories and show only the parts he chose. Perhaps it would be easier to just show what had happened, rather than try to explain it. He simply wouldn't include anything about the Deathly Hallows except for the part the Elder Wand had played. "All right," he agreed. "I'll show you if you teach me the spell."

Under Voldemort's expert tutelage, Harry got the spell right on his first try, so he started with Snape's Pensieve memories. He decided to let Tom and Voldemort see them in their entirety, feeling it was only fair since he'd seen so much of their personal history. Voldemort stayed silent during the parts about Snape and Lily, though he couldn't contain his scorn and derision during the 'scenes' with Dumbledore. Tom's lips tightened with disdain and then disgust when Dumbledore's plan for Harry was revealed.

"That's unbelievable!" he said. "The bastard really did set you up like a pig for slaughter."

"You seem rather sympathetic to Potter's plight, Tom," Voldemort remarked coldly. "How quaint."

"Shut up!" he snapped. "I was merely referring to the old man's manipulations, and pointing out what a fraud he was."

Voldemort gave him an odd look then they both went quiet.

After Snape's memories, Harry showed them selected memories of the Horcrux hunt, including the break-in at Gringotts, which Tom commented on afterwards.

"Really, all things considered, that was a rather impressive feat," he said, much to Voldemort's annoyance.

"It seems you have a new addition to your fanclub, Potter," Voldemort sneered.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom muttered, scowling at the mirror. "Even you should be able to appreciate that Potter managed to do something no one else in history ever successfully achieved, including that idiot Quirrell."

"Wait! How do you know about Quirrell?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort gave me his memories when he cast the final enchantments on the portrait," Tom replied.

"What?"

"Enough!" Voldemort roared. "We can talk about all that later. Continue, Potter," he ordered, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Fine. Whatever," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He pulled out his memory of the fight with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in the Room of Requirement during the hunt for the Diadem. As he watched the memory unfold, Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco appeared more human than he'd remembered; indeed, Draco looked quite upset when Crabbe tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Harry. He looked utterly panicked when Crabbe and Goyle aimed their wands at Harry, ready to cast the Killing Curse on him. It was strange watching the whole thing from the outside. Harry saw things he didn't pick up on during the actual events. Seeing it all now, it seemed rather obvious that Draco had been trying to spare Harry's life more out of mercy than fear of Voldemort's reaction when he shouted, "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!"

Voldemort seemed to agree. "I always knew that boy would turn out to be a traitor. He was pathetic. A coward of the worst kind," Voldemort growled contemptuously. "Unlike Severus. A traitor he might have been, and I hope he is burning in hell right now for betraying me, but I can say that at the very least, the man was not a coward."

"What did you expect?" Harry exclaimed. "You forced Draco to serve you by threatening his life and the life of his parents! What else would you expect from an unwilling servant? Blind loyalty?"

Voldemort responded by waving his hand dismissively. "Show me the next memory."

Harry concentrated hard, because the next memory was his walk through the Forest to face his death. He decided to show Tom and Voldemort everything except the actual appearance of the Resurrection Stone, so he honed in on that part and edited it out, though he kept in the part with his parents, Sirius and Lupin, wanting the two men in the portrait to see that death wasn't what they thought it was.

Voldemort watched the memory in silence but when Lily, James, Sirius and Lupin appeared, he spoke. "What kind of magic is this? Necromancy?"

"Old magic," Harry answered quietly, trying to quell the tears that threatened to gather at the sight of his family.

They watched the rest of the memory unfold, and as they watched Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at Harry, Tom's breath hitched.

"Amazing," he whispered, looking at Harry when the last wisp of the memory vanished. "I don't understand how you could stare death in the face like that and just let it happen."

"There was no other choice."

"I assume the next memory is of your time in limbo with Dumbledore?" Voldemort queried, his expression sphinx-like and unfathomable.

Harry nodded and began to concentrate, isolating the memory to show everything but the parts about the Deathly Hallows.

They watched the entire sequence in absolute silence.

When it was over, Harry looked at Voldemort and said, "Do you want to see the rest?"

Voldemort gave a terse nod.

Harry pulled the memory out of his head, starting from the moment he woke up in the Forest to the very end, when Harry was left standing with the two wands in his hand, staring down at Voldemort's dead body.

And then they watched.

"Well! That was certainly interesting," Tom said afterwards, breaking the silence.

"Indeed," Voldemort snarled, glaring at his younger self. "Very ... _interesting_ ," he jeered.

"That's enough," Harry finally said. He felt drained; showing the memories and reliving them had taken a lot out of him and now he suddenly felt exhausted. He looked at the plate of uneaten sandwiches, which had grown stale. Pointing his wand at the plate, he vanished the sandwiches, then banished the tray to the kitchen. "I'm tired. And hungry. I'm going to get something to eat then go to one of the other bedrooms and have a nap."

"We have more to discuss, Potter," Voldemort informed him coldly.

"It will have to wait," Harry snapped. He looked at Tom. "Until I know more about how the magical portraits work around this house, I want you to stay here. If anyone recognised you, it would be an absolute disaster and I won't have you risking everything and putting my reputation in jeopardy."

"Honestly, Potter, what part of 'our magic is still alive' did you not understand?" Tom said. "If I want to have a wander, I'll cast a glamour on myself first. No one will recognise me."

"What do you mean? You can actually do magic?" Harry asked in horror. "You didn't mention that before."

"I can only do it within the portrait realm. I can't perform any magic outside of it, so you needn't worry. If we could, don't you think Voldemort would have already cursed you?"

"You can do magic too?" Harry glared angrily at Voldemort, who was staring at him intently.

"Within the mirror," Voldemort said coolly, glowering at his younger self. "Unfortunately, Tom was here first, so I had to make a place for myself that kept us separate, to ensure that Tom could not kill me or use magic on me."

"Hang on!" Harry said, looking back at Tom with narrowed eyes. "When we talked before about you running into Phineas Nigellus, you said you'd be very careful and that you would avoid him. Why didn't you just tell me you could glamour yourself?"

"Why do you think? My comments were intentionally misleading, Potter," Tom said airily. "I simply gave you the easiest, most agreeable response, to spare myself the trouble of having to divulge information I wasn't ready to share with you at the time."

"Show me your glamour then," Harry sighed. "I'm tired and I want to have a nap. Just show it to me so I can go."

"As you wish." Tom reached into his robes and took out the familiar yew wand then waved it over himself, and a moment later, his appearance shifted. It wasn't a huge difference, but it was enough.

"Fine," Harry said curtly. "That will do. If you go out and end up meeting anyone, tell them you're one of my relatives or something." He headed for the door and before cancelling the Muffliato Charm he'd cast earlier, he turned back to look at Tom and Voldemort. "I'll be back later. Try not to cause trouble, or you'll both regret it."

"What can you do, Potter?" Voldemort taunted, his expression dark and filled with malice.

"I can do plenty ... such as not show you those memories you still want to see, for example," he replied. He smiled coldly as he walked out the door.

After a visit to the kitchen and a quick meal of warmed up stew, Harry headed to one of the bedrooms on the third floor and lay down on the bed. He felt knackered. After casting an alarm charm to wake him in a few hours time, he settled back on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

He was later roused from his slumber by the sound of someone calling his name.

"Potter," he heard. "Hey ... Potter! Wake up."

Harry sat up groggily and after putting his glasses on, looked around. But he saw no one.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" The words were followed by an exasperated sigh. "I'm here, you idiot!"

He turned his head and saw a smirking Tom Riddle, still wearing his glamour, in a small painting that he hadn't noticed previously.

"What the hell!" Harry spluttered. "What are you doing here?"

Tom was staring at him with a strange, inscrutable expression on his face. "I wanted to talk to you ... alone," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why?" Harry said, eyeing Tom suspiciously. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Lots of things," Tom replied with an enigmatic little smile.

"Such as?"

"Well, to start ... surely you have questions you'd like to ask?"

"Of course I do," Harry retorted. "But they could have waited until after my nap." He scowled at Tom. "How did you find me anyway? Did anyone see you? Phineas Nigellus? Walburga?"

Tom smiled. "There it is," he said. "That instinct towards self-preservation. That's what's so fascinating about you, Harry. You're a Slytherin through and through. And yet, having viewed your memories and inheriting Voldemort's memories of you, it's clear that you're just as much a Gryffindor as you are a Slytherin. I must confess, I find it rather intriguing."

"Oh, please!" Harry scoffed. "Do you really think I don't know what you're doing?"

"And what am I doing, precisely?" Tom inquired with an elegantly raised brow.

"Trying to manipulate me," Harry said, his voice flat and cold. "Don't forget, I know you, Riddle. Your charm won't work on me, so don't bother trying. I'm not going to fall for it."

"You think I'm charming?" Tom smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes in response.

"I believe it wise to question other people's true motives in every given situation, but I can assure you, in this instance, I meant every word I said. I find your dual nature fascinating. Most people are very simple, Harry. Predictable. One-dimensional. But you're not. It makes you interesting. Do you think so little of yourself that you can't just take that at face value?"

Harry snorted. "Spare me the phony compliments. I use that same tactic myself when I need to get something out of someone," he stated, opting to speak in a language Riddle would understand. "So don't bother. Flattery won't work on me."

Tom's expression hardened for a split second, then his face grew impassive. "Fine," he said in a cool voice. "It appears that the Slytherin Harry is out at the moment so I will refrain from continuing to pursue my obviously unwelcome attempts to be friendly."

Silence fell as they regarded each other through narrowed eyes.

"So ... are you going to answer my question?" Harry finally asked, steering the subject back on course. "Did anyone see you?"

Tom let out an annoyed sigh. "No. I cast a disillusionment spell on myself. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone."

Harry nodded. "Good."

Tom's lips tightened. His whole demeanour had changed entirely. Where before his countenance had been open and convivial, he now held himself stiffly and his expression was aloof.

"Listen," Harry said quietly. "I don't trust you. Why would I?" he said with a cynical shrug. "However ... it seems we're going to be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future, so maybe it would be better if we tried to get along."

"That is precisely what I was attempting to do, Potter," Tom sniffed. "Have you any idea what it's like for _me_? _I_ didn't do any of this to you; Voldemort did. How do you think I feel? I woke up in the portrait suddenly, and there was Voldemort. Imagine if your future self turned out like that and you were stuck with him for eternity."

A look of despair flickered briefly across his face as he spoke, and Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"I sought you out because I thought we could talk," Tom continued. "Until today, I only had him to talk to. And it can't have escaped your notice that we utterly detest each other. He hates that I still have my humanity, and I hate ... everything about him."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but before any words came out, the alarm charm suddenly went off, startling them both.

Tom winced at the sound as Harry grabbed his wand and hastily cancelled the spell.

"I keep forgetting," Harry muttered to himself.

"Forgetting what?"

"Huh?" Harry asked distractedly.

"What do you keep forgetting?"

"Oh. Er ... my magic's been a bit wonky, ever since the battle - my spells seem to be more powerful now, for some reason ... and I keep forgetting to put less force into them."

"That's interesting," Tom said.

"Interesting," Harry repeated.

"Yes. It gives more credence to the theory that you were a Horcrux," Tom articulated. "I suspect that your power has grown because Voldemort destroyed the soul fragment inside you, and your own magic is now free." At Harry's questioning look, he went on. "If it's true that you really were a Horcrux, I think it highly likely that a portion of your magic was constantly being expended to contain the fragment and protect you from its influence. Once it was destroyed, your magic became unbound."

"Yeah ..." Harry said, thinking about it. "That actually makes sense." He gazed at Tom. "Do you think it's possible I wasn't a Horcrux?"

"Possible, yes. Not all of Dumbledore's theories were correct." His expression changed, becoming unreadable. "I do understand the power of love, you know. I might not have experienced it myself, but I understand it. He was wrong about that. It's true I've committed almost every sin - I've lied, cheated, stolen, coveted, and yes, even killed ... I'm not a 'good' person, Harry, but nor am I a monster. I have feelings, just like everyone else." He averted his eyes then said quietly, "I'm not Voldemort. He became what he did because he split his soul too many times and it took away his sanity, but before, when he was me, he was ... human. That's why he hates me."

Harry stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"But, going back to your question ..." Tom said. "While some of Dumbledore's assumptions were wrong, I do believe he was correct about you being a Horcrux. All evidence points that way. That ... _thing_ ..." he said, "... the creature under the bench you saw when you were in limbo ... I believe it was a piece of Voldemort's mangled soul - the one that was attached to you." 

"Yeah," Harry said. He changed the subject. "So, um ... how exactly does it all work? What are you exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"From what I understand," Harry said slowly, "it seems that you and Voldemort are two separate soul fragments, contained in one object." He stared at Tom, the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to work it out. "You're a Horcrux, aren't you? Voldemort implied that you weren't one ... but what else could you be? Tell me the truth, Tom. Is that what you are? Is the portrait really a Horcrux - one that I missed?"

"No, it isn't. It's a different kind of magic."

"Explain," Harry said. "What's the difference?"

"First, you must understand that we're talking about a very complex form of magic," Tom began. "A Horcrux is made by performing a specific ritual to split the soul and tether it to this plane. After I made the ring and the diary Horcruxes, I began searching for another way to ensure my immortality. I was looking for a back-up. I needed a second alternative - a safety measure, in case my Horcruxes were ever found and destroyed."

Tom paused and gave Harry an odd look.

"I hope you're not waiting for me to apologise," Harry said sharply, daring him to say otherwise. "I did what I had to do and I'm not sorry."

"No," Tom replied softly. "I wouldn't expect you to be."

Harry frowned. Tom was so hard to read and there was something about his response that was perplexingly ambiguous.

"I researched other branches of magic and discovered another method," Tom continued after a moment. "I had been studying Parselmagic and I came across a ritual that would tether the soul to this plane by different means." He paused again. "Do you know anything about Parselmagic?"

Harry shook his head.

"The snake represents many things: power, secret knowledge, cunning, and most importantly in this case, transformation and rebirth. Just like a phoenix burns and is reborn from the ashes, a snake sheds its skin and emerges, shedding its old form and becoming something new. That is the foundation of the ritual I used. Parselmagic is natural magic rather than Dark magic. In the ritual I used, instead of splitting my soul through a violent act, the magic invoked was rooted in its very nature - meaning, it predicated the very essence of transformation and rebirth."

Harry blinked at him. "What does that mean?"

"Simply put, the magic involved was not rooted in the Dark Arts, like with the Horcruxes; Parselmagic is a more raw, natural form of magic that has no affinity. Neither Light nor Dark, it just _is_ , so to speak. The ritual I used invoked that raw magic. Based as it was in its very nature, it allowed the essence of my soul to be transformed into a tangible form. The result was to draw from the essence of my soul instead of splitting it, making it possible to inject that essence into the portrait."

Harry frowned. "It sounds very complicated."

Tom nodded. "Soul Magic is the most complex form of magic there is," he agreed.

"So, you injected the essence of your soul into the portrait ... is that basically what you're trying to say?"

"Precisely."

"And Voldemort did the same thing?"

"He did," Tom confirmed. "After the mirror likeness was added to the portrait, he performed the same Parselmagic ritual that I did and injected his soul essence inside the mirror, then he warded it with a number of unbreakable enchantments."

"So ... because he placed a division between the two of you, is that why you can both exist in the portrait at the same time, as two separate entities?"

"That's one of the reasons, yes."

Harry sighed. "All right. I think I get it so far. But I don't understand one thing - what's the difference between a soul fragment and a soul essence? Are you a soul or are you something else?"

"A soul fragment is a piece of the whole, while the essence is all of the whole. As for the second question - yes, for all intents and purposes, I am the soul of Tom Riddle; my counterpart is the soul of Voldemort."

"Explain."

"This is where the nature of magical portraits comes into play. When a person has a magical portrait painted, it captures that person as he or she is at that point in time and preserves that person in that particular form for eternity. So, I am the Tom Riddle from 1945, and Voldemort is the Voldemort from 1998. However, because our soul essences are different, it allows the two of us to exist concurrently as two distinctly different entities. My soul essence was drawn from the whole that had only been split twice ..."

"... and Voldemort's was drawn from the whole that had been split seven times," Harry finished. He let out a breath. "So how old are you then?"

"Eighteen," Tom answered. "I had the portrait painted in my eighteenth year, just after I graduated from Hogwarts, and I performed the Parselmagic ritual shortly after."

"But you said you have Voldemort's memories ... so, doesn't that make you Voldemort's age mentally?"

"It doesn't quite work like that. He transmitted them to me as blocks of knowledge and information, rather than implanting them directly inside my soul essence. The memories are more like a book I've read, instead of visceral experiences. I know them, but I haven't lived them. It allows me to view the memories from a distance and therefore, see them objectively."

Harry pondered that for a moment then said, "Why did he give them to you in the first place?"

"It was his back-up plan, in case the ritual failed to insert his soul essence into the portrait's mirror. It was tricky magic he was playing with and he wasn't sure it would succeed. So he gave me his knowledge and his memories, just in case, as a safeguard." He gave Harry a measuring look, as if weighing whether or not to tell him something. Finally he said, "When I woke up in the portrait, they all came into my consciousness at once."

"Wow!" Harry said. "That must have been ... weird."

Tom's lips quirked up in amusement. "Yes. It was."

"Do you ... are you feeling different at all, now that you've seen Voldemort and what you became?" Harry asked after a moment. "Do you have any ... regrets?"

"It would be impossible not to be profoundly altered by such an experience," Tom said quietly. "As for regrets ... of course I have them. Making the Horcruxes, to begin with. I never would have made them if I had known the consequences they would bring."

"But what about the murders you've committed? Do you regret them?"

Tom stared at Harry and didn't answer for several seconds. "I suppose I regret them more than I did before I woke in the portrait, though I won't pretend I regret them to the extent that you seem to be hoping for. It would be a lie if I said otherwise."

Harry thought about it and decided that any regret was better than none at all. It was a start, he supposed. He gazed at Tom and inclined his head to convey his understanding. "So ... how many people have you killed?" he asked. "Besides Myrtle, your father and your grandparents?"

"Just them." Tom's lips tightened. "Though, it was the Basilisk that killed Myrtle so I wouldn't call it murder exactly. It's one thing to be indirectly responsible for someone's death, but to actually kill someone - that's different. The first person I ever killed was my father." Tom's eyes flashed as he spoke. "Yes, I killed my father, Harry, and I cannot bring myself to regret it."

"I saw a Pensieve memory of you at the Gaunt house with Morfin right before you went over to the Riddle House and did it," Harry said hesitantly.

"Did you?" Tom looked startled. "I would be interested to see it."

"Can you show me your memories?" Harry asked. "Can you perform the same spell within the portrait?"

"Yes ... I suppose I can," Tom replied, his eyes narrowing. "Why? What are you proposing?"

"A trade," Harry said evenly.

"I see. A memory for a memory?"

Harry nodded.

"A very Slytherin proposition," Tom noted with an incline of his head. "Very well. I accept your terms, Harry. Which memory did you want me to show you?"

"The one where you killed your family."

Tom stared at him. "That is a very _personal_ memory," he said.

"I showed you a lot of personal memories too," Harry stated calmly. "It's only fair that you reciprocate, don't you agree?"

Tom's face darkened.

"Look," Harry pointed out, "we're going to be stuck with each other for who knows how long, and that means we'll be getting to know one another pretty intimately. You want me to show you my memories - fine, but I want to see yours in return. I don't see what you have to hide anyway. I know what you're capable of. I know what you've done. Besides, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone."

"I'm aware that you know a lot about me, Potter," he said, his voice tight. "That memory is personal for other reasons. It's not _because_ I killed them ... it's because of _why_ I did it."

Harry gazed at him for a long moment. "Those are my terms," he said firmly.

"Fine," Tom snapped. "You go first."

"All right. But if you don't show me your memory afterwards, I won't show you any more of my memories again, including the ones about your mother."

Tom glared at him. "Just get on with it, Potter."

Harry placed his wand to his head, then paused. "Hang on," he said as a thought occurred to him. "I'm going to enlarge the painting so we can both see better." He aimed his wand at the painting and cast a wordless Engorgement Charm on it, and suddenly Tom was life-sized again, staring at Harry with an expression of pure acrimony.

"Are you ready now?" Tom asked coldly.

Harry quickly cast an Imperturbable Charm on the bedroom door then told Tom to cast one inside the painting.

"I already have, Potter," he sneered.

"Why are still wearing a glamour then?" Harry asked.

"For pity's sake," Tom grumbled, removing the glamour. "There. Anything else?"

"Do you want just the Pensieve memory of you and Morfin or do you want me to include the parts before and after, where Dumbledore and I talk about it?"

"All of it."

Harry concentrated and pulled the memory from his head then cast the spell to project it onto the wall.

As they watched Dumbledore and Memory Harry talk about Tom's history and early life at Hogwarts, Harry sneaked a look at Tom.

His eyes were fixed on the wall, watching the conversation with a look of rapidly increasing fury. "You both think you had me figured out, didn't you?" he bit out angrily when the conversation ended and the two figures in the memory prepared to enter the Pensieve. "And you, taking everything Dumbledore said as gospel. How naive. Pathetic!"

Harry didn't respond. In a way, Tom was right. He had accepted all of Dumbledore's theories as truth. Now, he was no longer sure what to think.

They watched the actual Pensieve memory in silence, though Harry heard Tom mutter something under his breath at the first sight of Morfin. When the memory turned to the discussion that followed, Tom crossed his arms over his chest.

Finally it was over, and Tom turned to look at Harry, his eyes blazing.

"Dumbledore and his smug, arrogant assumptions! Passing judgement down from the lofty heights of his massive ego, like he was some kind of saint. How I hate that man!" Tom spat. "I went to the Gaunt house to meet my family. And that's what I found - Morfin, that disgusting piece of filth, calling my mother a slut and telling me that my other family lived just across the way. And you and Dumbledore presumed to imagine that you knew what I was thinking and feeling? You have no idea!" he shouted. "Do you really want to know what happened when I went over to my father's house?" he cried, brandishing his wand and placing it to his head.

" _Ostendo Memoria!_ "


	6. Chapter 6

Tom's memory filled the entire painting, and as it took shape Harry noted it was a lot like watching a telly.

The scene began with a visibly upset Tom Riddle walking up the long drive towards the Riddle House. Although it was dark out, the old-fashioned lamp he'd had with him at the Gaunt Shack was absent. When Tom got to the door, he stopped for a long moment, his expression nervous and hesitant. Finally he raised his hand and knocked.

The door was opened by a young maid, who started at the sight of him. "You ... you look just like ... oh my!" she stammered, clearly nonplussed.

"Good evening," Tom said smoothly, his mask back in place. "I was hoping to speak to Mr Riddle. Is he in residence at the moment?" he inquired.

The maid gaped at him for several seconds then finally seemed to remember herself. "Oh ... pardon me," she blushed, unable to take her eyes off Tom's handsome face. "Please, come in," she said, opening the door wider and moving aside to allow him entry.

As he walked into the great hall of the manor, Tom flashed a charming smile at the maid, and she smiled back at him shyly, her cheeks turning pink.

"The family is just about to sit down for dinner," she said, casting another glance at him. "If you'll wait here, I'll inform them they have a visitor." She gave him one last look, then hurried off.

As soon as he was alone Tom dropped the facade. He looked around, his eyes growing wide as he took in the opulence of the hall, and Harry could see a sudden flicker of longing in his expression. One might have attributed it to be a longing for the wealth on display but Harry could see something beyond that. He had felt the same emotion himself not to recognise it at once.

It was hope.

Yes, Tom Riddle, the sixteen-year-old orphan, stood in the hall waiting to meet his father, and it was there in his eyes, plain as day - a tremulous, burning hope Harry knew all too well.

He understood now why Tom hadn't wanted him to see this memory.

Suddenly the sound of loud footsteps approaching caught Tom's attention, and Harry watched as the young man in the memory nervously ran a hand through his hair then straightened his tie, obviously trying to make himself look more presentable. He looked so vulnerable ... so young. The gesture made Harry's heart wrench.

The maid appeared a few moments later and gave Tom an uncertain smile. "The family will see you in the drawing room," she told him.

He nodded, and Harry could see him swallow almost imperceptively.

"If you'll follow me ..." she murmured, and Tom nodded again, seemingly unable to speak.

The maid turned and began to walk.

Tom followed, looking more and more unsettled as they made their way down the centre of the hall. To see the proud, arrogant boy reduced to such a state of raw emotion ... it was terrible. Harry's chest tightened.

They turned a corner. Tom's breathing grew erratic as they approached the drawing room. Harry felt the anticipation as if it were his own. It was as if he could feel everything that Tom was feeling - the same fear, the aching hope, that painful longing to be wanted and claimed, the bitter certainty of rejection born from a lifetime of experiencing only that, a premonitory sense of foreboding that things were about to go dreadfully wrong ... Harry felt it all as if he were Tom himself.

It was overwhelming, and Harry had to avert his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

This was wholly unexpected. Why was he feeling everything so directly from Tom's point of view? Had Tom's magic reached beyond the confines of the painting to manifest as a strange kind of Legilimency?

Or ... was it a case of extreme empathy that had taken possession of Harry? Was he feeling this way because he was an orphan too and he could imagine exactly what Tom was going through, because he'd felt every one of those emotions himself?

The maid looked at Tom and whispered, "Here we are," then led him into the room. This was it.

Tom entered, and everything went still.

The family was sitting on the sofa in a formal pose, the three of them all in a row. It was an intimidating sight.

"That will be all, Daisy," the eldest man said in a stiff voice, and the maid quickly bobbed down into a curtsey then hastily left the room.

Harry glanced at the three haughty faces, two of which looked remarkably like Tom's, then looked at Tom himself. He almost wished he hadn't. Tom looked overcome. His face was pale and he was trembling slightly, and he was obviously struggling to regain his composure.

"Good evening," the eldest man said coldly. "I am Thomas Riddle and this is my wife, Mary, and my son, Tom." He paused, then said, "And you are?"

"My name is Tom Riddle, sir."

His voice was small. Harry felt the sudden urge to punch something. The once confident, fearless young man was gone, stripped away to this stark revelation of naked humanity; and what remained was this Tom, this vulnerable, quivering boy who was so cowed by his imposing Muggle grandfather it was almost unbearable to watch.

"I see." Thomas turned to the other man on the sofa. "It appears you have a son," he stated.

Tom Riddle Sr. flinched at his father's glacial tone. "I ... I didn't know, Father," he stammered.

"Is that so?" Thomas asked, raising an elegant brow.

"You ... you really didn't?" the youngest Tom whispered. "You didn't know about me?"

They all turned to look at him.

"Where do you come from, boy?" Thomas barked.

"I ... I came from the orphanage, sir. It's where I live ... in London."

"An orphanage?" Mary exclaimed. "This won't do, Thomas!" she murmured to her husband. "This won't do at all!"

Hope flared in Tom's eyes.

"So she's dead then, is she?" Tom Riddle Sr. said suddenly, addressing his son for the first time. "Your mother is dead?"

Tom looked at his father and slowly nodded. "She died ... giving birth to me. She ... Mrs. Cole said she showed up at the orphanage the night I was born. She gave birth to me ... then ... died." He paused, a war of conflicting emotions evident on his face. "She told them I was to be named Tom Riddle, after my father." The last word was said in a whisper.

"How old are you, boy?" Thomas asked sternly, in a tone that conveyed he would brook no nonsense.

"Sixteen, sir. I was born 31 December, 1926."

The formidable old man frowned, obviously working out the dates. He turned to his son and regarded him with an icy stare. "You said the girl tricked you into marrying her, falsely claiming she was carrying your child. You said you believed it to be true and that you accepted responsibility for the result of your dalliance and thus, married her out of a sense of duty and honour." His eyes narrowed. "And yet ... the boy here was born only a few months after you returned home without her. You would have known she was with child, her being that far along. She might have lied to get you to marry her, but you conceived a child with her after you were married."

"Father - " Tom Riddle Sr. began, but Thomas raised a hand to silence him.

"You lied to us," he continued cuttingly, his voice arctic. "Not only did you shame the family by marrying someone so beneath you, thereby breaking your betrothal with Cecilia and forcing her family to cut ties with us ... but you abandoned your then-pregnant wife and lied about it to your mother and I!"

"But ... Father ... it was - "

"Not another word," Thomas snapped. He turned to Tom. "You, boy! You will return to the orphanage and collect your things. The Riddles do their duty!" He shot a frigid look at his son. "We honour our responsibilities."

"Sir ...?" Tom ventured hesitantly, though his eyes betrayed his excitement.

Harry's heart lurched.

"We can put him in the Blue Room," Thomas said to Mary. "There will be talk but that can't be avoided."

The expression on Tom's face changed, becoming more guarded, but Harry knew better. That strange empathy had taken possession of him again and he could suddenly feel everything Tom was feeling, just like he had before. But now, inexplicably, Harry could read his thoughts too.

Tom was imagining the possibilities: returning to Hogwarts, no longer an orphan ... claimed by his Muggle family, yes, but that could be explained and accepted easily enough. They might be Muggles, but they were highborn Muggles who obviously had power and prestige and wealth. His fellow Slytherins would need some coaxing but it wouldn't take much to convince them that he had secured himself a far loftier position as the newly discovered grandson of Thomas Riddle, a man who commanded respect and wielded authority as expertly as any Pureblood, than the one he'd had. He would no longer be the penniless, pitiful boy forced to live at Wool's Orphanage during the summers. He would have a home, in a grand manor no less, and a real family ... and perhaps, a future now filled with greater prospects than he'd ever dared to dream of ...

"But ... Father!" Tom Riddle Sr. suddenly burst out. "You can't mean ... you can't be suggesting that he stay here with us?"

Tom's eyes widened and fixed on his father as anger bloomed on his face. Even worse than the anger, Harry could feel the hurt Tom felt at his father's vehement rejection.

"You dare to suggest otherwise?" Thomas bellowed. "You abandon your wife and child and then dare to suggest that we turn our back on our own?" The old man stood up, looking livid with rage, and pointed a finger at his son. "You are a disgrace!"

Mary stood as well and faced her son. "How could you?" she cried. "How could you do such a thing? We raised you to honour your responsibilities and obligations! How could you abandon your wife when she was carrying your child?"

"She tricked me!" Tom Riddle Sr. yelled. "She ruined everything! I never loved her - I loved Cecilia! It was all a lie!" He jumped up and gestured wildly. "She bewitched me!"

Tom went completely still.

"Your paltry excuses are unacceptable!" Thomas roared, grabbing his son by the lapel of his jacket then pushing him away in disgust. "Have you no shame, boy?"

"Don't you understand? She was ... a witch! A sorceress!" he shouted at his parents. "She cast some sort of spell on me ... to entrap me. Do you really think I would have dallied with someone like that? That pathetic, plain girl from the filthy shack across the way? The tramp's daughter?"

Tom's breath hitched and he clenched his hands into fists, yet remarkably, he remained silent. He looked at Thomas and Mary, gauging their reaction, and in that instant, Harry could read his thoughts once again. Tom was holding back from cursing his father because there was still a chance that his grandparents would accept him, that they would let him stay, and he wasn't going to spoil it by losing his temper.

"It's true! She admitted it! She told me!" Tom Riddle Sr. continued. "After we were married ... she told me, when she found out she was pregnant. She told me she was a witch and that she had cast a spell on me to make me fall in love with her."

"This is absurd!" Thomas growled furiously. "Your lies are appalling ... deplorable! You aren't even making sense!"

"I swear it, Father, it's all true. I was in love with Cecilia one moment and the next, I thought I was in love with Merope. I couldn't tell you the truth before because I didn't think you'd believe me. When I told you I married her because she made me believe she was pregnant - yes, that was a lie ... but I only said it because the truth is so hard to believe! Merope bewitched me. We got married. Then she discovered she was pregnant. She lifted the spell and confessed what she had done to me. She told me I had to know what she really was and that she'd had to end the enchantment because she was afraid the magic would hurt the baby."

Tom gasped.

"Once she lifted the spell I could see clearly again. I didn't love her! It was all a lie!"

"You expect us to believe that your wife was a witch and that you left her and your unborn son because of it?" Thomas said coldly. "This is ridiculous!"

Tom Riddle Sr. spun round to face his son. "Are you one of them too?" he shouted, and Tom froze. "A demon? A witch's spawn? Tell them! Tell them what you are!"

"Stop it!" Mary cried. "Thomas, he's gone mad!"

"They don't believe it, boy, but I know what you are!" Tom Riddle Sr. ranted rabidly. "You're just like your mother, aren't you? An abomination! The devil's child! I didn't want you then and I don't want you now!"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " The wand was out and the curse was cast before anyone knew what was happening.

Tom Riddle Sr. collapsed to the floor, dead.

Mary screamed.

Tom rounded on his grandparents, shaking uncontrollably, his magic crackling wildly around him.

They both recoiled, identical looks of terror on their faces.

"I have to! I have no other choice now!" he shouted hysterically, more to himself than to them. And with that, he swiftly cast the Killing Curse on Thomas, then Mary.

When their bodies hit the floor, he fell to his knees and began to sob.

The memory abruptly ended, and Harry blinked as the scene changed and the painting come back into focus, to reveal a grassy meadow with a large tree left of centre.

Tom was nowhere in sight, but the sky in the painting was dark and it was raining, so Harry knew he was still there.

Harry approached the painting and sat down on the floor. "Tom?" he whispered. "Come out. Please?"

A few minutes passed before Tom finally emerged from where he'd been hiding, behind the tree. He was soaked from the rain and Harry could tell that he'd been crying. He glanced at Harry then sat down on the grass.

They gazed at each other for a long time, neither saying a word.

Finally Harry spoke. "I'm sorry ... I misjudged you. I was wrong," he said quietly.

Tom stared at him and remained silent.

"I ... I was naive. I believed Dumbledore's assessment of things ... his speculations about you ... and never thought to question it. But I was wrong. He was wrong."

Tom's expression shifted but he still said nothing.

"I understand, you know," Harry whispered. "I understand how you felt."

"You don't understand anything, Potter," Tom hissed.

"Do you really think that? If there was ever anyone who could understand, it would be me. Do you forget that I'm an orphan too? Do you think I don't know what it's like to have hope, to believe that everything is going to change, then have it taken away in an instant? That's what happened to me when I lost Sirius."

Tom looked down at the grass and shrugged.

"And I lost control afterwards and tried to Crucio Bellatrix," Harry continued. "I wanted to kill her. I wanted to make her hurt the way I was hurting." He waited until Tom looked at him again then said, "I wanted to murder her. She was the only person I ever really wanted to kill. Did you know that? I didn't even want to kill Voldemort. I never wanted that."

Tom sighed.

"When I was watching the memory ... I could feel your feelings. I could read your thoughts. It was ... more than just me understanding what you were going through because I could put myself in your place. It felt like ... it was similar to what it was like with Voldemort, when we shared that mind link."

"The Parselmagic ritual required blood, among other things," Tom said tiredly. "Voldemort used your blood in his resurrection, so it was your blood that was used in the Parselmagic ritual he completed on the mirror likeness, when he injected his soul essence into it. It was also used when he gave me his memories."

"So ... we have a magical link - a mind connection?" Harry gasped. "You and I? Me and Voldemort?"

Tom nodded.

"Does it go both ways? Did you feel my feelings when you watched my memories?"

"At certain moments, yes."

"What was it like?" Harry asked.

"It was ... disturbing," Tom replied after a moment.

They looked at each other and their eyes locked.

"Tom?"

"What?"

"You ... regretted killing your grandparents, didn't you? I mean ... _really_ regretted it."

"Of course I did, Potter," he snapped. "Wasn't that obvious?"

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity!" Tom hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Harry gazed at him. "It's not pity. It's understanding. There's a big difference between the two."

At those words, the anger seemed to deflate from Tom and he suddenly looked exhausted. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

Tom cast him a suspicious look.

"I won't press. I just wanted you to know I understand, better than you think. But that's all I'll say for now." He slowly got to his feet. "I have to go send an owl to the Burrow. I don't feel like talking to everyone tonight, especially not Ginny."

Tom nodded.

"Are you going to stay here?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I want to be alone. I've been stuck with Voldemort all this time. I can't ... I'm going to sleep. I'm tired."

"All right ... I ... er ... I'll see you later, I guess."

Tom inclined his head then turned away.

Harry headed for the door. He gave one last look at the boy in the painting then opened the door and exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: While writing the previous chapter, I went over all of the Pensieve memories from the HBP book and examined them at length, as I'm trying to stick as firmly to canon as possible. I noticed that not only were the memories one-sided (and in some cases, full of pure conjecture and speculation), but they also had a definite neutrality about them that could be interpreted in a number of different ways. As I read and re-read those scenes from the book, I took note that it was actually Dumbledore who had theorised who Tom Riddle really was as a person, and Dumbledore who made assumptions about what Tom did and what drove and motivated him.**   
>  **When it comes to the books and HP canon, if you read the scenes with Tom in The Chamber of Secrets and look only at the actual Pensieve memories of him from The Half Blood Prince, putting aside Dumbledore's analysis and interpretations, Tom's actual behavior, words and actions show a person that is far more human and emotional than he is made out to be. It is my belief that it was the conditions in his life that influenced him to be the way he was. Regarding the psychological architecture of his personality (as well as Dumbledore's own motivations - his prejudice and bias towards Tom born from _his_ experiences, particularly with Grindelwald), it's something I've been addressing as this story is unfolding. That is why in the previous chapter, Tom was so indignant about Dumbledore's theories about him, and why he reacted the way he did. I'm trying to point out the assumptions Dumbledore made and correct them through Tom's response to them; his words and memories will show the truth, and as the story progresses, his actions will reveal who he really is.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Sorry it took so long for this chapter. Tom's memory was very difficult to write.**


	7. Chapter 7

After sending a message to the Burrow asking his friends to come visit the following day instead of that evening, Harry went to his bedroom and headed straight for his trunk, ignoring the portrait completely.

"Potter! Where have you been?" Voldemort hissed. "We have much to discuss - "

"Not now," Harry said in a strained voice as he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and quickly threw it over himself.

Tom's memory and their subsequent conversation had hit Harry hard. He needed to get away - now - and could think of only one place he wanted to go.

"Wait just a minute, Potter!" Voldemort protested furiously. "Where do you think you are going? You have been gone for hours and I want to talk to you!"

"Later!" Harry hissed.

And with that, he Apparated to Godric's Hollow.

The graveyard appeared to be deserted, but Harry kept the Cloak on as he approached his parents' grave.

He knelt down in front of it and stared at the white marble headstone. His throat tightened as he read the words inscribed on it for the second time in his life:

_James Potter, born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981_

_Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981_

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

"Hi, dad," he whispered. "I'll come back again soon to visit both of you ... but right now I really need to talk to mum."

Closing his eyes, Harry opened his hand and concentrated hard. He had never conjured anything out of thin air before, let alone without using his wand, but he reached deep inside himself and sought out his magic ... and simply wished it into being: within seconds, a pristine white lily was sitting in his palm.

Harry looked at it for a long moment, then carefully, reverently, placed it in front of the headstone.

"Hi, mum," he choked out as tears welled in his eyes. "I ... I really miss you," he whispered. "I wish you were here. I wish I could see you again." He traced a finger over her name.

L - I - L - Y.

It sent a strange shiver through his body.

He pictured her face, remembering the way she had looked at him in the Forest before he began the walk to his death. Knowing he was alone and hidden by the Cloak, he didn't try to hold back but instead let his tears fall without restraint.

"I'm really confused, mum," he finally continued when he could speak again. "Everything is ... I don't know. I don't know what to do ... what to think..."

A breeze gusted through the graveyard and then suddenly, he sensed something.

It was a presence, and it was right behind him. He stiffened as he felt it draw closer, then gasped when he felt ghostly arms wrap around him.

"My brave little boy," a soft, gentle voice murmured. "I'm here."

Harry gulped. "Mum?" he whispered. He tried to turn, and made a move to take off the Cloak, but she stopped him.

"No, keep it on," she said. "It makes our connection stronger."

He frowned but nodded, then shifted around to face her. "How -? How can you be here?"

Lily smiled and took his hand, reaching right through the Cloak as if it wasn't there. "You needed me," she said simply.

"But - "

"You are the master of Death," she whispered. "You Summoned me."

"I did? But how? I didn't use the Stone."

"Yes, but you put two of the Hallows in the Potter vault today and you're wearing the Cloak right now. As the master of Death and the keeper of the Hallows, you have the power to Summon the dead now."

"But ... I don't want that kind of power! I never wanted it!" he exclaimed. "I only kept the Hallows because I didn't want anyone else to get their hands on them. I've seen what they can do, what they've done to people - to Dumbledore, and Grindelwald. They're dangerous; no one should have that kind of power! I only kept them because I feel ... responsible for them."

"I know, sweetheart. And that's what makes all the difference," she said. "The power of the Hallows is either a curse or a blessing, depending on the intention of their Keeper. It's because of your innocence, and your virtue, Harry, and your desire to protect them rather than use them - " She broke off to smile at him. Her eyes shined with pride. "Because of that, you have been chosen by the magic of the Hallows to possess their gifts, to be the true, rightful master of Death, precisely because you haven't tried to seek the power they bestow."

Harry clutched her not quite solid hand. "So ... I didn't use the Stone to actually Summon you, I only wished for you ... and you're here?"

"Yes. You earned the gift rather than the curse," she explained. "Just like a wand chooses the wizard, Death chooses its master through the Hallows, ultimately, and it rewards or punishes the one who claims its allegiance. It's a sentient magic. Do you understand?"

"I think so," he answered.

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. She was so beautiful ... so perfect. He just wanted to sit there and fully take in her presence. He wanted to bask in the warmth of her love. He'd never had the opportunity to do this before. The other two times he'd seen her, everything had happened so fast; they'd barely had time to exchange more than a sentence. "This is the first time we've ever really had a chance to talk," he finally said.

Lily reached out with her other hand and gently stroked his face. "I know."

"Did I ... do you think ... were you Summoned because I needed to talk to you?"

She nodded then gave him an encouraging look. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm not sure if I can. Do you know what's happened? I don't know if I can even speak about it, because of the magical contract that's in place ..."

"You can speak about it to me, but not to any mortal person," she warned. "But yes, I do know what's happened. I know about Voldemort. I know about Tom. I know about the portrait."

Harry's eyes widened.

"I've been watching over you all day. I saw everything. I understand that you're feeling ... confused."

"So ... you saw Tom's memory?" he asked.

Lily nodded, and her expression turned terribly sad and pensive.

It mirrored exactly how Harry felt. "I don't know what to think anymore, mum. Dumbledore was so wrong - about so many things. I feel ... I feel so angry. I don't understand how he could have been so wrong!"

"Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard," Lily said, "but never forget, he was just a man." Her face darkened. "He made a lot of mistakes."

"Before today, I had sort of come to terms with the things he did, with the way he manipulated me and controlled my life ... but now ..." Harry trailed off, and gazed at his mother uncertainly.

"Now ...?" she prompted.

"I can't help but wonder if it's partly his fault that Tom turned into Voldemort in the first place. All this time I had thought Tom was born evil. But I ... I don't think that's true now. I can't help but think that Dumbledore failed him."

Lily regarded her son for a long moment before responding. "You are right about Tom. He was not born evil. He was a very scarred, very troubled little boy who needed love and guidance, and help. Perhaps if he'd had those things, it would have prevented him from becoming Voldemort. And as for Albus, yes, I think it's fair to say that he failed Tom. He's said so himself."

"He has? Dumbledore said that? You've seen him?"

She nodded. "When he came to the Plane where our souls reside, we spoke to him. He had a lot to answer for. Your father and I, Sirius, Remus, and Severus - we all spoke to him."

"Snape! You've seen him?" Harry burst out. "Oh God! Mum! I was so wrong about him! I thought he was a traitor and a coward but ..." He ceased talking because his throat had tightened again. After a moment he swallowed and continued, "He hated me so much, yet all that time he was trying to help me ... to save me ..." he whispered.  "It's so messed up. I don't know how I feel anymore. He hated me, and I hated him for the way he treated me - and the way he treated me was _awful_ , but now I know there was so much more to him. I'm sorry I didn't know the whole truth before. I'm sorry I called him a coward. And now he's dead and I can't even tell him I'm sorry or thank him for helping me. He suffered so much to help me. And the way he died was horrible - "

Feelings that he'd held at bay came rushing to the surface in a sudden flood of emotion. Overwhelmed, Harry buried his face in his hands and began to cry.

"Shhhh ..." Lily murmured, hugging him close in her ghostly embrace for what must have been minutes. "It's all right, sweetheart. He knows." She brushed the tears from his cheeks. "Severus is at peace now."

"Is he?" Harry asked in a subdued voice. "I saw his memories. Everything he did - it was all for you. And Dumbledore used that. He used him, manipulated him!" he said, getting angry again. "Snape's whole life was a tragedy. Dumbledore could have helped him, back when you were all in school, but he didn't. Just like with Tom! Dumbledore failed them. He failed them both!"

Lily's expression grew haunted at those words. "I know. But I failed Severus first," she said quietly. "I didn't like the direction his life had taken after we went to Hogwarts and he started getting more and more immersed in the Dark Arts. But I never should have abandoned him; I should have tried harder. I didn't know the impact the loss of my friendship would have on him. I didn't realise how much he really needed me. And then, he was absolutely devastated when I fell in love with your father. I should have known how much that would hurt him, especially after the way James and Sirius treated him."

"Mum ...?" he ventured after she fell silent. "That's another thing I'm confused about." He bit his lip, worried that she would be upset by what he was about to say. "I love dad and I love Sirius, more than anything. But, the thing is ... well ... it's been really hard to reconcile how they were. The way they tormented Snape - they were ... bullies ... like Dudley, and Draco Malfoy. I don't understand how they could have been like that. They were so vicious, and cruel." He looked at her searchingly. "I just ... I don't understand."

"They were human," Lily said. "That's really the only answer I can give you. They had flaws, just like everyone. The honest truth is, I didn't like either of them very much when I first met them, precisely because of the way they treated Severus. But they grew up eventually, and I began to see a different side to them both. We became friends. And then one day I realised I had fallen in love with your father. He had grown up to be a fine man and ... I loved him."

Harry nodded uncomfortably. He still didn't quite understand. It wasn't something that could be reconciled that easily. "So ... you said Snape is at peace now?"

"He is. And just so you know, your father and Sirius have apologised to him for the way they treated him. They know their treatment of him was a big part of what pushed Severus onto the path he ended up on. And in turn, Severus projected his anger at your father onto you and treated you terribly. But he tried to make up for his mistakes.  I only wish things could have been different, that none of us ever had to go through what we did."

She paused and regarded him intently. "But ... that's part of the design of life," she said. "Do you understand? This is very important, Harry. I want you to listen carefully and remember this: There is always a higher plan at work, even if we can't see it. Everything happens for a reason." She gave him an emphatic look. "No matter what happens, remember that. Promise me."

Harry was startled by the urgency and force in her tone. "I will. I promise," he vowed.

They were quiet for a long moment, both gazing at one another in thoughtful contemplation.

"What about Dumbledore? What about Tom?" Harry finally said. "And Voldemort ... and the portrait? I don't know what to do."

Lily smiled. "Just follow your heart and you'll never go wrong. I have faith in you. You'll do the right thing."

"But what is the right thing?"

"You'll know in time," Lily answered enigmatically.

"What do you mean? Do you know something?" Harry asked, his eyes widening. "Is there another prophecy or something?"

"There are some things I cannot reveal. I can only tell you to have faith, trust in yourself and let your heart guide you. If you do that, everything will turn out right."

Harry frowned at his mother's cryptic response.

"There is one thing I can reveal that you didn't know." Lily brushed the hair from his forehead, and gazed at his scar. "This wasn't just a curse scar," she said. "You didn't just get it from Voldemort's attempt to kill you. I don't know how anyone could have missed it."

"Missed what?"

"It is a curse scar but the shape it took is not a lightning bolt, like everyone has always thought. It's actually a rune."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

She traced it with her not quite spectral fingertips. "I drew it on you before Voldemort came, when we went into hiding. I did a ritual to protect you - a blood ritual. It's the _Eihwaz_ rune. That - and my sacrifice - caused Voldemort's curse to rebound on him."

Suddenly she gave a sad smile. "My time is almost up, sweetheart, so listen to me. I want you to study hard. You are the master of Death now. You have much to learn about the power you have been gifted with."

"What does that mean? Is there something I'm meant to do with that power?" Harry asked.

"That's not for me to say. But if you ever find you need help with it, tell only the few you completely trust, and only when you need to."

"I'm not planning to tell anyone," Harry said. 

"That is probably the wisest course. The less people who know, the better. But if you need help, don't be afraid to ask ... but only go to those you trust. Study the Runes - it will help you," she said quickly, as if she knew she was running out of time. "Tom can teach you about them. You can tell him about the _Eihwaz_ rune. Let him teach you what he knows."

 _"Tom?"_ Harry exclaimed incredulously. "Don't you want me to stay away from him? You think I should study magic with him?"

"He is not Voldemort," she said, staring into his eyes. There was something intense about her expression.

"Well, yes, I know ... but - "

"You can learn a lot from each other. He can teach you what he knows ... and you can teach him what you know," she said.

She pulled him close and hugged him. "Remember what I told you. There is always a higher plan at work and everything happens for a reason, even if you can't always see it."

"But - "

"I have to go now. I'm being called back. Goodbye, my sweet boy ..." she whispered.

And then she was gone.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

Harry didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he got up and left the graveyard. Night had fallen. He aimlessly walked around Godric's Hollow for a while - perhaps hours; he couldn't tell - thinking about everything his mother had said.

Finally, he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He refused to go to his bedroom. His anger towards Voldemort for taking his mother away from him was as fresh as if it had just happened. He couldn't face him.

He went straight to the bedroom on the third floor and fell onto the bed, still under his Invisibility Cloak.

"Potter? Is that you? Where have you been?" he heard Tom say a few moments later. "Potter?"

Harry sat up and took the Cloak off, then looked at the boy in the painting.

Tom peered back at him and frowned. "Voldemort is quite worked up about you going off for so long. He wants to talk to you."

"I can't talk to him right now," Harry whispered. "He killed my mother."

Tom cocked his head to the side and stared at him with a puzzled expression.

"I ... I just saw her."

"Well, yes ... I know," Tom said, giving him a strange look. "But we viewed your memories hours ago and you seemed fine - "

"No!" Harry said, his voice rising. "I mean ... I just saw her. Just now!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I went to the graveyard where my parents are buried. I conjured a lily for her. I'd never done that before. And then ... she came to me, and we talked ..." Harry heard himself say. He was starting to feel very odd. Numb. "She told me things."

"Potter ... come here," Tom said, beckoning for him to come closer.

Harry felt so peculiar, like he was drifting away. It felt like he was floating outside his own body. Tom was speaking but he couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Potter!"

He looked in the direction of the voice but didn't respond.

"Harry!" Tom said sharply, and suddenly Harry felt himself slamming back into his body with a jolt.

The impact was so abrupt, it made him lurch forward and he lost his balance and fell off the bed and onto the floor.

"What's going on? Harry! Harry ..." Tom repeated. It was like an echo. "Come here. Let me look at you."

Harry sat up and finally made his way over to the painting, half stumbling and half crawling, until he was sat before it.

"Look at me," Tom said in a commanding voice, though his tone sounded anxious and worried.

Harry looked at him.

Their eyes locked.

"Your pupils are completely dilated," Tom said with a frown. "You said you saw your mother?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you Summon her?" he asked. "Have you been dabbling in Necromancy?"

"I ... it wasn't on purpose," Harry mumbled.

"That's very dangerous magic to play around with, especially if you don't know what you're doing," Tom responded.

"It's complicated."

Tom gazed at him, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Harry's aura. "Your magic is out of control. You need to ground yourself back in this Plane."

"How do I do that?" Harry asked.

"A grounding meditation. Focus on your _Muladhara_ ," he began, then frowned when Harry blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "Your root chakra - it's at the base of your spine. Find it ... feel it."

Harry closed his eyes and sought it out.

"Do you feel it?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now picture a cord stemming from your root chakra and then imagine it plugging all the way down into the earth," Tom instructed.

Harry concentrated until he saw the cord then he visualised it growing and lengthening, like a long Muggle electrical cord, and after imagining a plug at the end, he mentally pushed it into the earth.

"Feel it, the way it's plugged into the ground," Tom continued. "Feel it tethering you back to the earth ... back to this Plane."

Harry felt it, allowing it to take a firm hold, and suddenly he was fully back in his physical body again.

"Take a deep breath."

Harry did, then let it out slowly. He felt solid again ... substantial. He took another breath, then exhaled and opened his eyes.

Tom was staring at him.

"Um ... thanks," Harry said hesitantly after a long moment. "That really helped. I feel okay now."

"You should know better than to dabble in magic you don't understand," Tom said.

"I wasn't ... that isn't what happened exactly."

"What did happen then?"

Harry averted his eyes then sighed. "I can't explain it. I can't talk about it."

When Tom didn't say anything, Harry looked back at him.

They stared at each other, neither speaking.

Finally Harry broke the silence. "I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed." He gazed at Tom for another second then got to his feet. "I'm sleeping in here. I can't be in the same room with Voldemort right now."

Tom nodded.

Harry turned and headed over to the bed then sat down.

"I don't want to be around him either," Tom said in a quiet voice.

Harry stared at him. "All right. Fine. You can stay here if you want. Just ... let me sleep." He pulled the blanket down and got under the covers then turned his back to Tom, ending the conversation.

After taking his glasses off and putting them on the bedside table, he cast a wordless Nox and the room went dark. He laid his head upon the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Harry." Tom's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Harry's eyes flew open and he frowned in surprise.

Then finally he whispered back, "Goodnight, Tom."


	8. Chapter 8

It was morning. Harry was still asleep, dreaming.

_He was at a strange sort of carnival, looking at a row of booths. One had a sign at the top that read: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Fred was dressed like a carnival barker, manning the booth; he glanced up suddenly and saw that Harry was there, and waved at him then turned back to his customer._

_"I think you're supposed to go into the Funhouse," someone said in a dreamy voice. It was Luna Lovegood. "I'll wait outside while you go in," she said. "You have to go by yourself."_

_Harry turned to look at where she was pointing._

_The goblin, Ulbrok, was standing at the entrance, in front of a large, intricately-carved wooden door. He gestured for Harry to come closer._

_"Go on," the goblin whispered to him. "You may go in now."_

_Harry hesitated. "What's in there?" he asked._

_Ulbrok grinned and opened the door. "Go in and you'll see."_

_Feeling a growing sense of trepidation, Harry entered._

_It was dark and he couldn't see anything at first, but then suddenly the Funhouse lit up, to reveal a hall of mirrors. Voldemort was in every one of them, laughing._

_"No!" Harry gasped in horror. "Not you!" He ran, trying to find the exit._

_When he got outside, Luna and the goblin were gone._

_Suddenly, a cloaked figure approached out of nowhere, then pointed to the booth directly next to the Funhouse, and pressed something into Harry's hand. "Your ticket," the cloaked figure said._

_Harry looked at the ticket, then at the booth. The sign above it read: Magic Carpet Rides._

_"Ticket, please!" a merry voice called._

_Harry realised with a start that it was Dumbledore who was standing behind the counter. He was smiling at Harry and holding out his hand for the ticket. Harry walked over and gave it to him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he placed it down on the counter, next to a thick ancient-looking black book which the old wizard pushed to the side as he plucked out one of the rolled up carpets from a basket. He handed the carpet to Harry with a wink._

_"Here you go," Dumbledore said, then he beckoned Harry closer and whispered, "This one is yours."_

_Draco Malfoy stepped forward and said, "Come on, Potter. The ride's this way."_

_Harry followed him and suddenly they were on a platform; Draco took the carpet from Harry and unfurled it with a snap, leaving it to hover in the air. "Get on," he said. Harry did, and then the carpet lifted off and took flight, and Harry was soaring through the sky, going higher and higher until he reached the clouds, which were all shaped like lilies. When he gripped the edge of the flying carpet to lean forward, he noticed that the fabric suddenly felt different._

_He glanced down at it and realised the carpet was actually his Invisibility Cloak._

_Then everything shifted and suddenly Harry was a balloon, with a string tied to his feet._

_His eyes followed the trail of the string and he saw that Ginny was at the end of it, holding onto it tightly._

_"No," he called out, panicking. "Let go!"_

_Suddenly Tom appeared and took it from Ginny, which made Harry feel oddly relieved._

_"You can't stay up there," Tom said, and he began pulling the string down, until Harry was back on the ground. Once they were at eye level and their eyes met, Harry was no longer a balloon, but a person again._

_They stared at each other, and then Tom suddenly moved closer._

_"I got this for you," he whispered in Harry's ear. "Take it."_

_Harry looked down and saw that Tom was holding a candied apple. There was a bite taken out of it._

_"I had some," Tom said. "Here. Taste." And then he gently pressed his lips to Harry's._

_Before Harry could respond, Tom pulled back and smiled, then turned and began to walk away, heading straight for the Funhouse._

_"Wait!" Harry called. "Don't go in there! Come back!"_

_But Tom kept walking, getting closer and closer to the door ..._

 

Harry awoke abruptly and sat up with a jolt. He reached towards the bedside table, scrabbling for his glasses, and once he found them and put them on, his eyes immediately went to the painting.

Tom was gazing at him. Intently.

Harry flushed.

"You were dreaming about me," Tom said, raising a brow.

Harry felt his face grow hot. "What? What do you mean?" he stammered.

"You were calling my name," Tom replied. His lips were quirked upwards in what appeared to be a sort of half-smile, half-smirk.

Harry's stomach lurched at the sight of it. "Was I?" he mumbled, looking away.

"Yes. You were," Tom said. There was a silky tone to his voice that made Harry want to shiver. "So ... tell me, Harry. Why were you calling my name? What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"Oh ... but I think you do," Tom said softly. "And I think we should talk about it."

"I have to go!" Harry blurted, jumping up from the bed and swiftly heading for the door. He practically fled out of the room.

 

 x-x-x

 

After a quick trip to the loo, he made his way down to the kitchen. Kreacher had made him breakfast - there was a cup of coffee and a plate of hot rolls already on the table - and he sat down and began to eat, but he was so distracted he barely tasted anything.

He couldn't stop thinking about the dream, or more specifically, about Tom kissing him in the dream. During his sixth year at Hogwarts, he'd had a few dreams where Tom had kissed him; but in those dreams the kisses had been angry and violent. This one had been different. It was softer, sweeter - a gentle caress of lips against lips. It was nothing like the others.

Harry didn't want to think about it, but there was no escaping it. Until this moment, he had resolutely pushed those dreams he'd had during his sixth year out of his mind; and when he got better at Occlumency, he'd mentally locked them up in a trunk and stuck it out of sight in a dark corner of his mind. But now, he was remembering:

One night, after seeing Slughorn's Pensieve memory, he'd had a dream about Tom being his partner in Potions class. In the dream, after the class ended and everyone had left, Tom and Harry stayed behind and exchanged words, and things got physical:

"You're just as bad for cheating from The Half Blood Prince's book and using all those unknown spells as I am for wanting to learn about Horcruxes," Tom said. "Those are Dark spells that you're practising and you know it and don't care. Face it, Harry, you and I are more alike than you want to admit!"

"That's ridiculous!" Harry snapped. "I'm nothing like you!"

Tom advanced on him threateningly and poked him with his finger. "Liar!" he hissed. "You know it's true. And that's your worst fear ... it's your biggest weakness. Keep denying it to yourself all you want but don't dare think you can lie to me!"

And then Tom suddenly grabbed Harry by his tie and shoved him up against the wall and kissed him, aggressively.

Harry tried to push him away but his resistance rapidly crumbled, turning into a dark, lustful desire. Fuelled by pure enmity and a raw, primal physical attraction that he couldn't resist, he soon found himself kissing Tom back with vehement fervour.

When he woke, Harry was appalled to realise not only had he dreamt of Tom kissing him, but he had liked it ... and even wanted it by the end. Worse, he felt utterly ashamed and confused by the fact that he'd awakened in a state of arousal. He'd had no idea how to justify that.

Another time, shortly after viewing the Pensieve memory of Tom visiting Hepzibah Smith, he'd had a dream that Tom had somehow lured him down to the Chamber of Secrets. Again, they had a heated exchange:

"You disgust me! You don't deserve to be a Parselmouth!" Tom raged.

"I never wanted to be one," Harry replied coldly.

"Exactly! You have been given a gift - a rare and precious gift - and you don't appreciate it at all! You should be grateful. Proud. But you're a coward!"

Harry lunged at him. "Don't you dare call me a coward!" he yelled.

And the next thing Harry knew, Tom had him pinned down on the ground and he was kissing Harry with a hunger that the Gryffindor quickly matched.

They rolled around on the stone floor, kissing wildly, each fighting for dominance, neither wanting to submit to the other.

Harry woke up from that dream to sticky sheets. He'd been completely mortified by the discovery and it had left him feeling more confused than ever. He'd actually wondered whether Voldemort had sent him the dream through their link but he discarded that thought immediately when he realised how actively enthusiastic his own participation had been. He had felt the burning desire in himself; he had wanted it too, just as much as Tom had, and there was no denying it.

And then there was the dream he'd had about Tom that was the most disturbing one of all. It was right after he had kissed Ginny for the first time. On that very night, he dreamed that he and Tom were laying together in his bed.

"You kissed her but it isn't the same as it is with me," Tom sneered. "She's a rather shoddy replacement, don't you think?"

"Shut up!" Harry growled. 

"It's what she is, isn't it?" Tom said seductively, moving closer. "Because you want _me_ ," he whispered. "But you hate that. You would rather lie to yourself about that silly girl and live in a world of make-believe, convincing yourself that she's what you want, than admit I'm the one who makes you feel this way." His hand slid up inside Harry's shirt and Harry shivered as Tom's fingertips brushed against his bare skin. "This is what you really want ..."

And in that moment, Harry knew it was true, but it made him absolutely furious. He grabbed Tom by the back of his neck and kissed him savagely. He wanted to punish him. "I hate you," he whispered in Tom's ear. "I _hate_ you."

Tom laughed. "No, you don't," he said. "You want to hate me, but you don't. That's your problem."

Harry responded with another bruising kiss which Tom returned with fierce abandon.

"Go ahead and chase after that stupid girl. It doesn't matter," Tom said breathlessly when the kiss ended. "You're mine. You'll always be mine, no matter how far you try to run ..."

When he woke, Harry had been determined not to let the dream affect him. He was happy with Ginny. He wasn't going to let weird dreams about Tom Riddle ruin that. Ginny was the one he liked, the perfect girl for him ...

Back in the present, Harry cringed. He now knew why he'd thought Ginny was so perfect. What in Merlin's name was wrong with him?

He pushed his plate away and put his head down on the table, covering his face with his hands.

"Master?"

He looked up. Kreacher was standing there staring at him.

"It's the Mudbl - Muggleborn girl," the house-elf said, correcting himself when Harry scowled. "She's at the door, asking if she can come in."

"Just her?" Harry asked. "Is she alone?"

Kreacher nodded.

"All right," Harry said with a sigh. "Let her in."

Kreacher bowed, then disappeared with a crack.

A minute later, Hermione entered the kitchen. She took one look at Harry and sat down across from him. "What's going on?" she said quietly. "What's happened?"

He shrugged, not sure where to begin.

"You look ... upset," she ventured.

He stared at her and slowly nodded.

"Ginny told us you found out some shocking news yesterday."

He was silent for a long moment. "I don't know what to do," he finally whispered.

"What happened?"

Harry let out a breath. He could feel a panic attack coming on. It was too much. There was too much to process and he suddenly felt like he was being swallowed up by it all.

"I can't get back together with Ginny." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Hermione looked startled. "What do you mean? What did you find out yesterday at Gringotts?"

"That isn't - that's not what I meant. It's not because of what I found out."

She stared at him.

"I ... I've been thinking a lot," he said. "About ... things." He looked down.

"And ...?" she prompted when he didn't go on.

"I realised something," he whispered. "But I don't know how to talk about it. It's really messed up."

"Harry, you know you can tell me anything," she said. "I won't judge you."

"It's too ... weird," he said, shifting uncomfortably.

When she didn't respond, he looked at her. She was gazing at him pensively but her expression was gentle and encouraging.

He sighed. "You know how I saw my mother in the Forest before I went to face Voldemort?" he began.

"Oh," she murmured. Her expression changed and she nodded.

"What?" he said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you looking like that?"

"I ... I think I might know what this is about," she said hesitantly.

"Really?" 

"Why don't you tell me what you were going to say - what is it that you realised?" she said.

He shook his head.

"Harry ..."

"No," he said. "Look ... this is really hard for me to think about, let alone talk about. If you think you know what it is, then say it."

"You saw your mother and realised Ginny looks a lot like her," Hermione said evenly.

Harry gaped at her. "How - how did you know?"

"I've seen pictures of your mum. I always saw the resemblance."

"God, Hermione!" he exploded. "Why didn't you say something?"

"It wasn't my place!"

"But - "

"No, Harry," she insisted. "It wasn't my place. I didn't know if you were drawn to Ginny because of that, or if it was just a coincidence and you genuinely liked her for who she is."

"I do genuinely like her for who she is! But ... as a friend." He averted his eyes. "You were right about the first part," he whispered.

"I thought so," Hermione said quietly. When Harry didn't look at her, she reached out and took his hand. "It's okay, you know. I understand."

"How can you understand? I'm a _freak_!" he said miserably.

"Actually, it's a fairly straightforward case of what Muggle psychologists call 'the Oedipus complex' - it's not that unusual or even surprising, considering the circumstances of your life. You don't have to feel weird about it. There's nothing wrong with you."

He felt momentarily relieved. If Hermione said it was something she'd heard of and it wasn't that unusual, maybe it wasn't so bad. But then he thought about Tom and the dreams. "There's ... more," he said.

She looked at him and nodded. "Tell me."

"I'm really confused about ... certain ... oh God! No. Nevermind. Forget it," he said. "I don't know. I'm just confused."

"Harry ... is this about your sexuality?"

"What?" he cried. He hastily cast a wordless Muffliato Charm around them.

"Don't get upset, okay?" She gazed at him for a moment then said, "The truth is, I always kind of wondered if you were gay, or at least bisexual."

"What? Why?" he choked out in a strangled voice.

"Well, the first thing that I noticed - you looked at boys more than you did girls; and I could tell when you found certain boys attractive. That was the first clue."

He stared at her.

"And ... before Ginny, the only girl you ever showed any interest in was Cho. But when you kissed her, the way you described it was a bit off - and it was obvious you didn't really feel anything for her. I started wondering if maybe you'd actually had a crush on Cedric and transferred those feelings onto Cho."

"Oh God!" Harry groaned, covering his face.

It was true, he had felt something for Cedric, though he'd refused to think of it as a crush at the time. He'd been jealous and annoyed that Cedric and Cho were dating ... and then convinced himself it was because he liked Cho. But he'd had a few dreams about the Hufflepuff boy - they weren't as explosive or sexual as his dreams of Tom, but there was one dream, after the Yule Ball, where he dreamt that Cedric kissed him ...

And the truth was, Cedric's death had devastated him; even Dudley had noticed - that night when the Dementor attacked them, Dudley had been making fun of Harry for calling out Cedric's name in his sleep.

Hermione continued, "And then later ... I could tell you had a crush on Sirius."

Harry was stunned into silence. That was definitely true. He had never admitted it to anyone, but his feelings for Sirius had been very ... conflicting, and he knew he didn't feel for Sirius the way a godson should about his godfather.

"And in sixth year, your obsession with Draco Malfoy - it seemed like it was ... well ... more than just you trying to figure out what he was up to and whether he was a Death Eater or not. And really, there was always something between you two ... I think on both sides," Hermione finished.

Harry let out a sharp breath. His feelings towards Draco were complicated; there was so much animosity between them, but he couldn't deny that there had been times when he'd felt a certain kind of attraction to him, despite everything ...

"Harry?" Hermione was looking at him expectantly. "Am I right?"

"I ... I don't know what to say," he whispered.

"Do you think you might be gay ... or bisexual?" she asked.

Was he?

The answer seemed pretty obvious. He'd just been in denial about it because he'd been too afraid to admit it before now, even to himself. But he couldn't deny it anymore. He averted his eyes and finally nodded. "Maybe," he mumbled.

"You know it's okay if you are, don't you?" she said. "There's nothing wrong with it."

He shrugged.

"I'm glad you've figured it out."

"I'm not!" Harry snapped. "How do you think everyone will react? Ron? Ginny?" he said. "Do you really think they'll understand?"

"You don't have to tell anyone until you're ready," Hermione said.

"Anyway, maybe I'm bisexual. Maybe I'll meet a girl I like and this won't even be an issue."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe. But I hope you won't go into denial about this. You should give yourself time to - "

Harry didn't hear the rest of what Hermione was saying because suddenly he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he knew, without a doubt, he was being watched. He sneaked a quick glance around the kitchen, looking for any magical paintings or portraits he might not have noticed before. On the other end of the kitchen, there was a small painting of a cottage, but he didn't see Tom in it. Yet Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was there. Tom had probably disillusioned himself or perhaps he was hiding behind the cottage.

Harry was suddenly very glad he'd cast the Muffliato Charm. If Tom had heard their conversation ... well ... he didn't even want to imagine it. He turned his attention back to Hermione.

"So you don't have to worry. I promise I won't say a word to anyone," she was saying.

"Thanks." He managed a weak smile. "But what about the other thing - about Ginny and my mum? What am I supposed to say to Ginny? Should I tell her ... the truth?"

"I don't think that's something you should ever tell her. Not because it's weird or wrong, but because it would hurt her. Just tell her you're still too unsettled by all that happened with the war to get back into a relationship right now."

"But then she'll just wait for me! She kissed me yesterday when she came over. Did you know that? And it made me cringe! It was awful! I don't want to hurt her but I don't want to lead her on either."

"You don't have to sort everything out this second. Give it time," Hermione advised. "I'll talk to Ginny and try to get her to back off and give you space."

Kreacher suddenly came in and interrupted. "Master! Your great-great-grandfather would like to speak with you," he said excitedly.

Harry cancelled the Muffliato Charm and said, "Oh really? Would he?"

Hermione stared. "Who?"

"Phineas Nigellus," Harry said to her. "He's my great-great-grandfather, apparently. That's what I found out yesterday. It turns out I'm actually the rightful Heir of the Black estate because I'm a direct blood descendent, not just because Sirius named me as such in his will. There were only two living male blood descendents who could have inherited the estate at the time of Sirius' death: me and Draco. But I'm the one who inherited it, because Sirius left it to me. It's mine, by magic and by birthright." He turned to Kreacher. "Tell him I'll be up in a minute."

"Yes, Master."

As soon as Kreacher disappeared, Harry cast another Muffliato Charm. Tom was probably still lurking and Harry wasn't going to take any chances. He realised he would have to be very careful around this house now.

"Do you mind if we continue this later?" he said. "I need to talk to him. I have to find out why it was kept a secret from me. I haven't actually spoken to Phineas Nigellus about it yet." He narrowed his eyes. "It should be very interesting to hear his explanation."

She nodded, looking bemused.

"Don't tell Ron or Ginny. I don't know how Ron is going to react when he finds out I'm related to Draco Malfoy. It's mental! My closest living relatives in the wizarding world are Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks. If Bellatrix were alive, her too. And Sirius. My father was Walburga's first cousin."

"My God, Harry!" she cried. "You must be completely gobsmacked!"

"Yes. I was really shocked when I found out." He stood up. "I'm going to go talk to him now. I want to know why I was never told about this."

Hermione got to her feet and came around the table to give him a hug.

"Thanks," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and embracing her tightly. "Thanks for talking to me and ... for being so understanding."

She pulled back to look at him and smiled. "Here," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a Galleon. "It's charmed. Just tap it twice with your wand and say my name if you need to talk to me. It's spelled to work only between us."

He grinned and took it from her, then his mood turned serious. "You're my best friend, Hermione," he said. "Do you know that? You've been through it all with me and you've stuck with me all the way. You never turned your back on me. Not once. I just want you to know how much that means to me."

She reached out and tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. "And yet, I was such a fool, Harry," she said with a rueful smile. "I kept holding you back, doubting you, doubting the Hallows, doubting your intuition - when you were always right."

"We were both just trying to figure it all out. Blindly. I don't blame you for doubting everything."

"I've been thinking about this though. I always did that," she said. "I see how terribly narrow-minded I can be. It's a pattern I'm just becoming aware of about myself."

"We're all learning things about ourselves now, Herms. It's part of growing up. None of us are perfect, so don't be too hard on yourself for daring to be human."

She smiled at him affectionately. "You're my best friend too," she whispered, and Harry noticed that her eyes were watery.

They hugged again.

"See you later?" Harry said when they broke apart.

She nodded. "Send us an owl, or if you want just me to come over, use the charmed Galleon."

After Hermione left and he was alone, Harry cancelled the Muffliato Charm and looked at the painting of the cottage.

 **:: _I know you're there, Tom_ ::** he said in Parseltongue. **:: _I'm going to speak to Phineas Nigellus now but afterwards, I'll be going up to talk to Voldemort_ ::**

He glared at the painting. **:: _And then you and I are going to have a talk about you spying on me_ ::**

And with that, Harry strode from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry stormed into his bedroom, the door slamming behind him with a blast of magic.

"Potter!" Voldemort hissed. "It is about time you showed up after making me wait so - " He broke off when he took a good look at Harry, who had immediately begun pacing back and forth in a kind of frenzy.

Waves of wild, uncontrolled magic swirled around him, whipping the air up in the room, but in his fury, Harry barely noticed.

"What's this?" Voldemort asked brusquely. "Potter! What is the matter with you?"

Harry turned his head to glance at the portrait, then resumed his frantic pacing.

"Potter! I asked you a question. What is wrong with you, boy?"

"He's obviously upset," Tom said quietly. "Potter!" he called. "Potter! Harry. Look at me."

Harry stopped pacing for a moment and looked at Tom.

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"Dumbledore!" Harry spat.

Voldemort laughed. "Of course! It's always Dumbledore! What did the old fool do now?"

The lamp on one of the bedside tables exploded.

"Shut up!" Tom snapped, glaring at the man in the mirror. "Can't you see he's lost control of his magic?" He turned back to Harry. "Potter, listen. You have to calm down."

The other lamp exploded.

"Harry, look at me!" Tom said sharply. When Harry obeyed, Tom said, "Come here."

Without thinking, Harry walked over to the portrait, his eyes fixed on Tom's.

"My, my! How terribly clever of you, Tom!" Voldemort said. "It appears you have trained him well. How ever did you manage such a thing?"

"Ignore him. Just keep looking at me," Tom said softly. "You need to calm down and try to rein in your magic. Let me help you."

Harry nodded. It was true, he realised distantly; he could feel his magic crackling around him and his entire body felt like it was vibrating.

"Take a deep breath," Tom commanded.

Harry inhaled slowly and deeply, his eyes on Tom's all the while. There was something in Tom's gaze, a kind of force that was irresistibly compelling; yet, instead of riling Harry further and making him want to fight against it, it soothed him and instantly made him feel more grounded.

"Yes. That's it," Tom murmured in a soft, steady voice that was almost hypnotic. "Keep looking at me and just breathe."

As Harry stared into those unfathomable dark eyes, a sense of peace began to wash over him and the wind that had been whipping about the room started to die down. After about a minute, he felt things level out.

He blinked and let out another breath.

"Better?" Tom asked.

"Yeah." Harry gave him a little smile. "Thanks."

Tom's lips quirked upwards the tiniest bit and he inclined his head. "You're welcome."

"If you two are quite through," Voldemort said, his voice cold with irritation, "I want to know what happened with Dumbledore. What did the old man do?"

Harry felt his expression darken as he turned his gaze to Voldemort. He cast a venomous look at the man in the mirror then turned and stalked over to his bed and sat down.

"He made Sirius take a magical oath swearing he wouldn't tell me of my true connection to him and the whole Black family," Harry said. He laughed bitterly. "He also made Mr and Mrs Weasley take one. And Lupin. And Snape. He made everyone in the Order who knew that Dorea Black was my grandmother take one. Couldn't have me finding out I had Dark ties in the wizarding world!"

Harry looked at Voldemort then at Tom. "He never trusted me! No matter what, despite everything I did to prove myself, he never really believed in me. Did he think any little thing would push me over to the dark side? Why would it, when the childhood he forced me to endure didn't do that already?"

Tom frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He engineered almost every aspect of my whole life, yet he ignored my existence until I came to Hogwarts. Just dumped me on the doorstep of the Dursleys the night you killed my parents," Harry said, looking at Voldemort. "He just left me there on the doorstep, wrapped in a bundle of blankets with a note tucked inside that said my parents had been murdered and since the Dursleys were my only living relatives, they had to take me in. I don't even know if he stuck around to see that they actually brought me inside. Aunt Petunia told me she didn't find me until morning when she opened the door to put out the milk bottles." He shook his head. "And that was it, until I got my Hogwarts letter. He just left me with those people and _never once_ checked on me to see how I was doing. No one did, not in a way that counted. I didn't even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday."

Tom looked angry by the end of Harry's rant and even Voldemort looked surprised.

"That is how he treated his precious Saviour?" Voldemort said contemptuously.

"He was so afraid I would turn out like you. But he made the same mistakes! He didn't help you when you needed it; and with me ... he purposely set me up to live with magic-hating Muggles, instead of finding a place for me in the wizarding world. I know I was sent to the Dursleys because of my mother's protection charm, but still." Harry jumped up from the bed and started pacing again. "He forced me onto them. Even if I did have to live with them, he could have helped, he could have made it better. But he didn't. And then later, when I came to Hogwarts, all he did was manipulate me, and lie to me, and keep things from me. He abandoned me whenever I really needed him."

"You didn't know you were a wizard? Until you got your Hogwarts letter?" Tom said. "But didn't you know you were different from Muggles? Didn't you do accidental magic as a child?"

"Of course, but I didn't understand that it was _magic_ ," Harry replied. "And yes, I did know I was different, but only because the Dursleys wouldn't let me forget it. They hated anything that wasn't considered normal. They thought I was a freak. And sometimes things happened - bouts of accidental magic - and they would punish me for it, though I never understood why I was being blamed for the weird things that happened. I didn't know I had done magic."

"What kind of accidental magic did you do?" Voldemort wanted to know.

Harry thought about it, then snickered. "Once, I accidentally set a snake loose on my cousin and his friend when we were at the Zoo," he admitted with a grin. "I didn't know I was a Parselmouth at the time and I was talking to the snake and it was responding. My cousin's friend saw the snake acting strangely and called my cousin over. Dudley punched me to get me out of the way so he could get a look at it. I fell, and that's when the glass vanished and the snake got loose."

Tom and Voldemort both laughed.

"I'd like to see your memory of that!" Tom said.

Harry paused, then shrugged. "All right. I'll show it to you if you want."

The snake incident had happened on Dudley's eleventh birthday, Harry remembered. He thought for a moment. He had never talked at any length about his childhood with anyone before, in great part because he knew no one would have understood. But Tom would understand. And so would Voldemort. For some reason, that made him want to show them what his life with the Dursleys had really been like. So Harry decided to start the memory from the beginning of that morning when Aunt Petunia woke him, and go all the way up to him being punished and locked inside his cupboard.

He cast the spell and the memory began:

Harry had been asleep - dreaming of a flying motorbike, he remembered - when Aunt Petunia banged on the cupboard door and told him to get up. As they watched Memory Harry put his socks on (after pulling a spider off one of them), Voldemort spoke.

"What is this?" he asked. "Were you already being punished? Is this how they punished you? By locking you inside a cupboard?"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "No. That was 'my room' - it was where I always slept. Though, when my Hogwarts letter came and it was addressed to The Cupboard under the Stairs, my aunt and uncle freaked out and had me move to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

"What?" Tom said. "How many bedrooms did they have? And why were they making you sleep in a cupboard?"

"There were four - one for my aunt and uncle, one for guests, one for Dudley to sleep in, and one for Dudley's broken toys."

"You must be joking!" Tom exclaimed.

"Nope," Harry said flatly. "And the reason I had to sleep in the cupboard was because they hated me. They made that clear from the beginning. I wasn't wanted and they considered me to be a burden, and as such, I had to earn my keep. That meant I did almost all the cooking, cleaning, and the rest of the household chores, plus I had to take care of the garden. I was basically a house-elf." It felt good, finally being able to talk about it.

"And you say your Hogwarts letter was addressed to that cupboard?" Voldemort asked, his voice incredulous. "Dumbledore would have had to have known then. What was the old fool thinking to put you in such a place?"

Harry shrugged. "He put me there because of my mother's protection ... which, yeah, I can kind of understand his reasoning there - but the real question is, why didn't he intervene and make things better for me? I'm sure Mrs Figg reported to him how things were, but he didn't do anything to help me." He paused, then said quietly, feeling an equal mixture of hurt and anger, "I imagine it was because he wanted 'The Boy Who Lived'" - he snorted - "to be someone who was easily led and who would give him unwavering loyalty, once he 'saved' me and got me at Hogwarts." 

"And that is precisely what he got, wasn't it?" Voldemort said pointedly.

"Yes," Harry replied, giving Voldemort a measured look. "He played us all, like the expert manipulator that he was. He played you too."

Voldemort had nothing to say to that.

They turned their attention back to the memory.

Harry had just made breakfast and the entire Dursley family were sat at the table. Dudley was blubbering about not having enough birthday presents. Both Tom and Voldemort sneered with disdain.

"What a repulsive, spoilt pig!" Tom said, wrinkling his nose as they watched Dudley greedily begin unwrapping the mountain of presents before him.

Petunia left the kitchen to answer the phone, and when she returned, she glared at Harry and reported to Vernon that Mrs Figg couldn't take him because she'd broken her leg. After an argument ensued, it was finally decided that Harry would have to come along. Dudley burst into his fake tears, and started wailing about how Harry would ruin everything.

Tom and Voldemort both made identical sounds of disgust.

When Dudley continued his crying and moaning, but then shot an ugly grin at Harry during the middle of his act, Tom growled.

"Unbelievable!" he spat. "How could you stand it?"

Harry shrugged. "It was all I knew."

Tom's lips tightened in response and he turned and cast an angry look at Voldemort.

Voldemort scowled back at him.

The two of them stared at one another, and judging from the increasingly irate expressions that animated their faces, Harry suspected that they shared a telepathic mind link because, clearly, they were having a silent, but fierce, argument. As their standoff continued, it became obvious that was the case when Tom suddenly hissed furiously in Parseltongue **:: _Shut up!_ ::**

Voldemort raised a brow, his expression victorious, and Tom turned away and crossed his arms over his chest.

The memory played on.

Tom watched in sullen silence, but after a few minutes, as the events at the Zoo further unfolded, he couldn't help but voice his shock and revulsion at the way Harry was treated.

When it got to the part in the reptile house where Harry began talking to the boa constrictor, Tom smiled.

"You didn't think it was odd that you were communicating with a snake?" he asked, but there was no malice in his tone.

"I guess I wasn't really thinking about it at the time," Harry answered.

They all laughed when Memory Harry made the glass vanish and the snake slithered past Dudley and Piers, who were both snivelling and nearly wetting themselves in fear. But the laughter stopped when Harry got punished.

"It's just like it was at the orphanage," Tom said quietly to Voldemort. "Whenever we did accidental magic, we'd get punished like that." When Voldemort didn't reply, he looked at Harry. "At first, I didn't understand why I was being accused of everything, but I figured it out soon enough ... and then, I learned to purposely use my magic to fight back."

Harry nodded. He could only imagine the kind of treatment Tom probably endured at the orphanage, being a magical child, and not only that, but a troubled one - and a prodigy to boot. No, Harry wasn't going to judge Tom for using magic to protect himself, even if it had been malicious magic. He had already learned that his preconceptions about Tom had been wrong and he was certain that things must have happened to drive him to violence. "I understand," he said.

"Do you?" Voldemort snapped suddenly. "Do you really _understand_?" he said in a mocking voice. "What is the worst thing you ever did to those filthy Muggles? Did you fight back? Did you use your magic to punish them?"

Harry thought of Aunt Marge. "Yes. Though it was accidental magic."

"What did you do?"

"I blew up my aunt - Uncle Vernon's sister. She was a horrible person. And honestly, she deserved what happened. I don't even feel bad about it."

Voldemort laughed. "You blew her up, you say? Now that is a memory I should very much like to see," he said, his scarlet eyes gleaming.

Tom looked interested too, Harry noticed, but he stayed silent and just gazed at Harry with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Frankly, Harry was a bit curious to see the memory again himself.

Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate. And then he cast the spell.

The memory started: It was Harry's thirteenth birthday but no one said anything to him when he came down to breakfast. He sat down at the table and got a piece of toast. As he did so, he glanced at the telly. The newsreader was halfway through reporting about an escaped convict - Sirius.

He looked so wild-eyed and mad, and so terribly haggard in the picture, Harry noticed with a pang. It made his heart ache, seeing him like that. The Harry in the memory hadn't known who Sirius was then, so he hadn't paid much attention to the picture at the time. But now, he stared at it closely, taking in every detail. Harry's mind drifted back to the Battle, and he thought about what Sirius had looked like in the Forest, just over a fortnight ago - he had looked whole again, younger, more handsome than ever.

And he was gone.

Feeling desolate suddenly, Harry steered his attention back to the memory.

Uncle Vernon was telling Petunia that he was off to pick up Marge. He turned to Harry and pointed at him threateningly, informing him that they had a few things to get straight. When he started in about Harry's 'abnormality', blustering that there better not be 'any funny stuff' while Marge was visiting, Tom snorted. When Vernon went on to say that they'd told Marge that Harry went to St. Brutis' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, Harry glanced over at Tom, who looked outraged - so much so, it made Harry wonder if he had tapped into the connection between them and had now begun experiencing what was happening in the memory as if he were Harry himself.

Tom's eyes met his suddenly, and in a flash, Harry knew it was true: Tom was definitely feeling what Harry had felt. Knowing what was about to come, he gave Tom a wry look and said, "Keep watching."

He couldn't hold back a grin as he watched his Memory self 'negotiate' his deal to go along with Vernon's lie and pretend that he attended St. Brutis' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys - if Vernon agreed to sign Harry's Hogsmeade permission form. He was surprised to see how confident and poised his younger self was, and how in command he was of the situation, preying on his uncle's fear and holding it over him with that calculated innocence he had, by that time, learned to employ to his full advantage. It was his only weapon, and he wielded it well.

Voldemort snorted. "Really, Potter! You should have let the Hat Sort you into Slytherin. What a waste."

Tom's lips were curled up in a little smile. "Yes. Perhaps you should have. You certainly handled yourself like a true Slytherin." Tom seemed ... impressed. And for some reason, that made Harry feel pleased.

The memory went on, showing a few choice moments of Marge's visit, then it jumped to the scene that happened at lunch on the third day.

Marge had started in on what seemed to be her favourite subject: What Was Wrong With Harry.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," she was saying dismissively as Harry sat there, seething with rage. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it."

She reached for her wine glass.

"It's one of the basic rules of breeding. You see it all the time with dogs," she continued. "If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pups - "

The glass in her hand suddenly exploded, shattering in every direction as wine sprayed all over her.

Watching in the present, Harry smiled coldly at the sight, although he could feel his eyes burning with anger. He looked over at Tom, who wore a similar expression on his face.

Harry smiled again, grimly. "And now for the grand finale," he said as the memory moved forward, to the last night of Marge's visit.

They were all sitting around the table, having dinner, and Aunt Marge was drunk, which made her more odious than usual. She'd had a lot of wine with her meal, and had been surprisingly quiet about Harry up to that point, but when it was time for dessert and the brandy came out, she started in on him.

Just watching the memory, one couldn't tell what Harry was thinking, but Harry remembered: he was thinking about his Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare, a method of defense he'd taken to practising in an attempt to block out, or at least ignore, her loathsome comments. All he had to do was get through that last dinner and then she'd be gone and Vernon would sign the Hogsmeade permission form. As Marge got warmed up, and started going on about Harry's parents, he was telling himself over and over, 'Don't let it get to you. Remember the form.' It was like a mantra running through his head.

He had managed to keep quiet and hold it in at first, but when she called James Potter a no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger, Harry finally lost control of his temper.

Uncle Vernon was quick to see what was happening and tried to intervene but it was too late.

Marge and Harry were shouting at each other. Harry had jumped to his feet and Marge was screaming, "They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives! You are an insolent, ungrateful little - "

She couldn't finish the sentence because suddenly she was blowing up, buttons popping off as she rapidly inflated and began to rise off her chair up to the ceiling. Chaos ensued: Aunt Petunia was screaming; Ripper came in, barking madly; Uncle Vernon was trying to grab hold of Marge's foot to pull her down, and Ripper attacked him, latching onto his leg.

Memory Harry ran out of the room and went straight to the cupboard, his magic blasting the door open. He quickly got his trunk and left it at the front door then sped upstairs to his bedroom and tore the floorboard free, hastily pulling out the pillowcase he'd filled with his books and birthday presents from his friends. After grabbing Hedwig's cage, he legged it downstairs.

Vernon came out of the dining room and into the hall. "COME BACK IN HERE! COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!" he shouted hysterically.

Harry kicked his trunk open and got out his wand, pointing it at his uncle. "She deserved it! She deserved what she got," he spat. "You keep away from me!"

As Harry watched his Memory self aim his wand threateningly at Vernon, he gasped. He could see his Memory self's aura: it was dark and pulsing; and not only that, his eyes were glowing unnaturally.

Is that what he had looked like? No wonder Vernon had been afraid of him. He could see it - and now, suddenly, he could feel it; and the rage inside him was so great, Harry could only wonder how he'd contained it and not done something even worse. Right at this moment, he was feeling very close to what he felt in the memory and he could barely contain it now.

"Do you see it, Potter?" Voldemort said. "Look at yourself! Look at your eyes, boy! Do you not see your power? That dark fury? How glorious!"

"Shut up!" Harry yelled. He needed to breathe. The room suddenly felt really closed in. "Just shut up!" he panted. His skin was prickling; he felt really hot all of a sudden and he couldn't breathe.

Voldemort's expression changed.

 **:: _Don't!_ ::** Tom hissed at the Dark Lord warningly.

"You see how powerful you are, Harry?" Voldemort's smile was cruel. His eyes glinted. "And all it takes to unleash it is to say something about your worthless bully of a father and your Mudblood mother!" he said triumphantly.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT!" Harry heard a roar in his ears as a rage he had never known before surged through him. His magic lashed out in a great burst.

And then suddenly he heard Voldemort scream.

The mirror in the portrait had burst into flames.

Voldemort jumped back, brushing his robes frantically, but when he realised he wasn't on fire, he threw his head back and started laughing like a maniac.

Tom hastily drew his wand and cast an Aguamenti, trying to douse the flames.

"Dear me!" Voldemort said when he stopped laughing. "Yes, you are more powerful than I thought." He looked at Tom. "You better mind yourself, boy! It looks like Potter here can do magic in the portrait ... or at least on your side of it," he said smugly.

Harry looked at them both in horror then ran out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

He felt out of control.

He stumbled down the stairs, to the bedroom on the third floor. He needed to get away, he had to calm down; his heart was pounding and he could barely breathe. Everything was closing in on him, and he could feel his magic pulsing, threatening, ready to lash out again -

"Harry!"

He spun around and looked at the painting; Tom had followed him. "Go away!" he gasped. Shaking, he grabbed his Cloak, throwing it over himself, preparing to Apparate.

"Wait! Don't - "

But Harry didn't hear the rest; he Apparated to Godric's Hollow, the first place he could think of, tumbling down in front of his parents' grave, his chest heaving. He lay on the ground, panting, trying to catch his breath.

After a few minutes, he started to calm down. When he could breathe normally again, he sat up and looked around. The graveyard was quiet, deserted.

He stayed there for a while, not talking, not thinking, just sitting quietly. The storm had passed. The sun was shining, he could hear birds chirping. It was peaceful. Grimmauld Place suddenly seemed far away; there was only here and now, no worries, no troubles.

Eventually, Harry got up. It felt like he was in a dream. He began to walk, through the graveyard, past the gate, past the church, then onto the street.

The pub was open; Harry could hear the people inside as he walked by. Villagers were milling about in front of the shops but he was invisible under his Cloak, and he made his way past them unseen. He continued on, walking down the lane, past the row of cottages, all the way to the end where his parents' house was. It looked different in the light of day, without the snow that had been there at Christmas; the overgrown grass seemed even more unkempt, the ivy-covered cottage seemed more ramshackle. He looked at the blown-out top floor, and swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.

What would his life have been like if Voldemort had never existed?

He allowed himself to imagine it: He'd be finishing his final year at Hogwarts, busy studying for his N.E.W.T.S.; and James and Lily would be living here in this house, with Sirius visiting often - perhaps roaring down the street on his motorbike ...

But it was no use thinking of what might have been: Voldemort  _had_  existed - and still did - and there was no escaping it. Harry had thought it was over, but it wasn't. Voldemort would live forever now, in the portrait; he had found a way to achieve a form of immortality after all, and Harry was stuck with him, yet again.

And then there was Tom. Harry was stuck with him too ... but ... it was different with Tom. He still had his humanity; he wasn't the monster that Voldemort was. There was a chance that he could be redeemed. He had regretted killing his grandparents; Harry had seen it. He was a murderer, yes, but he didn't take it lightly - not like Voldemort.

With a heavy sigh, Harry turned away from the house. He began to walk, down the lane, past the next row of cottages and then past the next one.

Was it only yesterday that everything had changed so dramatically? So much had happened, in such a short span of time. It wasn't just Tom and Voldemort that he'd inherited; he'd found out he was also the Black Heir; he'd found out he had family in the wizarding world. Dumbledore had lied to him, once again. He had manipulated him and everyone in the Order, and kept Harry's true heritage a secret. Was there no end to the old man's machinations? The careless, ruthless disregard made Harry sick. Dumbledore hadn't cared about Harry's rights. He'd needed Harry to be his puppet, an instrument to be used; and with his lies and manipulations, he had shaped him and made Harry exactly what he'd wanted him to be.

And Voldemort - he had shaped Harry equally. Harry had been Dumbledore's puppet, but he'd also been Voldemort's Horcrux - a part of Voldemort's soul had lived inside him for nearly all his life ... Who knew how that had influenced him? Was that why his aura had been so dark and his eyes had glowed after he blew up Aunt Marge? Was that Voldemort's influence? Or was that Harry himself? He was still a Parselmouth, after all, even without the soul fragment.

He continued walking, lost in thought. He had reached the end of Godric's Hollow and was now walking along the country road outside the village.

Who was he, without Dumbledore's machinations and Voldemort's influence? It was a question Harry kept asking himself, but he didn't know the answer.

He walked for another mile or so, until he reached the edge of the next village.

There was no point in going further, and he was tired of walking, so he steeled himself to go back to Grimmauld Place then Apparated home.

 

* * *

 x-x-x-x-x-x-x

* * *

 

Back in the bedroom on the third floor, Tom was in the painting, waiting for him. "Where have you been?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, sitting down on the bed. He felt drained.

Tom gave him an assessing look. "You shouldn't Apparate when your magic is out of control," he finally said. "You're lucky you didn't splinch yourself."

Harry shrugged. "I needed to get away."

Tom sighed. "You can't let Voldemort get to you like that. He is a psychopath; his only pleasure is inflicting as much misery as he can on you, and on me. He knows your weaknesses, and he's going to exploit them. He enjoys it - he  _revels_  in it."

"I know!" Harry said curtly, annoyed by Tom's didactic tone.

"He wants to punish you for defeating him. He's going to try to provoke you at every opportunity. You can't let him affect you - "

"It's not that easy!" Harry interrupted angrily.

"And showing him your memories is only giving him ammunition," Tom continued. "Whatever knowledge he can gather from you, he'll use."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. He felt defensive. He didn't need Tom lecturing him and pointing out his mistakes. "What about you?" he said aggressively, his temper flaring.

"What?"

"Isn't that what you're doing too?" Harry asked. "Gathering information to use as ammunition?"

Tom froze and his face grew impassive. "Is that what you think?" he asked coldly.

"Yeah, maybe. Maybe you're just doing it in a different way, acting friendly, trying to butter me up."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"It's more effective, isn't it?" Harry went on belligerently, picking up steam. "That's how you are, Riddle, I know you. Don't forget, I met the Diary Horcrux. That was  _you_ , and you acted all friendly, like you were trying to help me, and then you tried to kill me." Harry laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. "I don't know what I was thinking. I thought you were - I don't know - I thought that I'd got you wrong. You seemed different; but that was only in comparison to Voldemort. But you  _are_  Voldemort, just the younger version - "

"I AM NOT VOLDEMORT!" Tom roared. He looked furious. "Don't you  _dare_  say that I'm him! You know  _nothing_ , Potter! You have no idea - " He broke off, his face going cold. "You have no idea who I am. You have  _no idea_ what it's like for me," he said, his voice rising again. "Don't you dare say I'm like him! I'm nothing like him!" he said fiercely.

Before Harry could say anything, Tom turned and stormed out of the painting.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't even sure he'd meant what he'd said; he'd lost his temper and lashed out at Tom, because he was angry and embarrassed that he'd let Voldemort get to him. Harry certainly didn't trust Tom and he didn't know whether Tom's friendliness was genuine or a manipulation but he  _did_  know that Tom wasn't Voldemort. Even his mother had said so, and she would know. It hadn't been fair to say that.

He sighed again. He would have to find Tom later and apologise, after they both had time to cool down.

In the meantime, he would do something he'd been putting off. Reaching into his pocket, he took out the Charmed Galleon. "Are you busy?" he sent to Hermione. "Have you and Ron had lunch yet?

* * *

 x-x-x-x-x-x-x

* * *

 

Ron and Hermione came over shortly after.

"Did you hear?" Ron said after they'd all sat down at the table in the kitchen. "The Malfoys were attacked."

"What?" Harry said, startled.

"It happened this morning," Hermione said. "Draco and his mother had gone to Gringotts and when they got outside, a mob of angry wizards surrounded them. They managed to get away, but Draco was hit with a few curses. I think he's okay though."

Harry felt sick. "The war is over!" he said angrily. "Hasn't there been enough violence? They were pardoned. Why can't people just let it go and move forward?"

"A lot of people can't forget that Voldemort was headquartered at Malfoy Manor," she said. "And Narcissa and Draco were Death Eaters, even if they were pardoned. Tempers are still high."

"If you ask me, Malfoy got what he deserved," Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.

"I still don't get why you testified for Malfoy anyway, mate," he said to Harry. "He was going to turn you over to Voldemort. The only reason he didn't was because Crabbe set the Fiendfyre."

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, remembering what he saw in his memory the previous day. "I don't think he would have."

"You're bonkers! Of course he would have - "

"I saw him through the connection with Voldemort a few times," Harry said quietly. "He was not serving willingly, trust me."

"Yeah, but he was trying to save his own arse, that's my whole point - "

"Ron," Hermione snapped. "Leave it!"

"All right, fine!" Ron shot back angrily. "You two might have forgiven him, but I haven't! As far as I'm concerned, he should be in Azkaban."

Kreacher came over to the table and began setting down platters of food, putting a halt to the conversation. There was roast chicken with gravy, roasted potatoes, peas and carrots, and Yorkshire pudding.

Ron perked up at the sight of it. "Blimey, that looks good," he said.

"Yeah, thanks, Kreacher," Harry said.

The house-elf bowed in acknowledgement and scuttled off.

"So ... what happened yesterday?" Ron asked, after they'd served themselves. "What did you find out at Gringotts?"

Harry told them about his meeting with Argrod and what he'd learned.

"Merlin!" Ron cried when he'd finished. "How come Sirius never said anything about it? He never mentioned that your dad was Walburga's cousin?"

"No, Dumbledore made him take an oath not to tell me," Harry said flatly. "He made everyone in the Order take it."

"But why?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious? Why do you think? Because the Blacks are a Dark family and he didn't want me getting any ideas. He needed me to be isolated and dependent only on him," he said bitterly.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, looking at him with a pleading expression. "He did care about you. Dumbledore did a lot of things that were ... questionable, but I know he cared about you."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what does that matter?" Ron said. "He had no right to keep that from Harry!" He cast Harry a sympathetic look. "That's messed up, mate. It really is."

"Yeah. Anyway ... apparently he cast some kind of Charm on the Black Family Tapestry to hide my connection - that's why I'm not on it. Phineas Nigellus told me. I want to restore the family tree back to its original state." He looked at Hermione. "Do you have any ideas how I can do that?"

"Hmm ... I don't know," she said, her expression turning thoughtful. "Did Phineas tell you what Charm he used?"

He shook his head. "I'll look into it and see what I can find," she promised.

"After she gets back from Australia," Ron said after a beat. "She's going to go to Australia to look for her parents," he said to Harry.

"Ron!" she cried, giving him a vexed look.

"When?" Harry asked.

"I haven't decided yet." Her voice was strained. "Ron thinks I should go as soon as possible. But I'm not sure."

"Why not?"

She looked down at the table and didn't answer.

"Hermione ...?"

After a long silence she looked up again. Her eyes were swimming with tears. "Maybe my parents are better off without me," she whispered.

"What? How can you say that?" Harry cried.

"They don't know that I exist anymore - and they're probably happy now," she said, her voice trembling. "It wasn't easy for them, being Muggles and having a witch for a daughter. They accepted it, of course ... but it was hard for them to let me go and live such a huge part of my life in a world they didn't belong to or really understand."

Harry and Ron stared at her. She had never really spoken much about her parents during their time at Hogwarts.

"They didn't know much about ... the things we went through. I didn't want to worry them - plus, if they had known, they might not have let me continue at Hogwarts. And then they were in danger, because of me - because of our world. When I modified their memories I intended to go look for them in Australia after the war was over ... but now - " She broke off, and let out a sob. "I know Voldemort's dead and the Death Eaters are in Azkaban but ... maybe they're better off where they are - wherever they are - " She broke off again, covering her face with her hands as she let out another sob.

"Hermione, they're not in danger anymore," Ron said gently. He put his arm around her and rubbed her back. "It's over. It's all right now. Right, Harry?" He looked at Harry, his eyes beseeching him to reassure her.

"Right," Harry said, swallowing, his throat suddenly tight. Hermione was blaming herself for putting her parents in danger, but really, it was Harry's fault, wasn't it? "It's safe now," he forced himself to say, trying not to think of Voldemort upstairs. "You should go find them and bring them home. They're your family, Hermione. You have to go."

"And I'll be coming with you," Ron said. "You're not going to be doing it alone. I'll be there to help you."

Hermione let out a shuddering breath and took her hands away from her face. "But you need to be with your family," she said to Ron. "George - "

"There's nothing I can do for George right now," he said firmly, a look of sadness flickering over his face at the mention of his brother. "He's in his own world these days, shut up in his room, not letting anyone in. He's grieving in private, which is maybe what he needs to do. I can't help him right now. But I can help you."

She gazed at Ron, her expression turning more hopeful. "Really?" she said, her voice a whisper.

He nodded. "Of course. I'm going with you and that's that."

Her face lit up and she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. When she let go, she turned to Harry and then her face fell. "But ...  _you_  need me, Harry. I don't want to leave you when you're going through all this - "

"I'll be fine," Harry said. "Honestly. I want you to go too."

"We can wait a little longer - "

"No. Really, I think you should go as soon as possible."

She gave him a meaningful look that he understood to be in reference to their earlier conversation. "You're sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he said, in a way he hoped conveyed that he'd got it. She nodded, understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Harry grinned at her, then looked at Ron; he was beaming at the both of them.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said.

"So ... where in Australia are they, do you think?" Harry asked.

"Somewhere in Sydney, hopefully," she said. "It's a huge country. But I did cast a tracking Charm on them; I should be able to find them once I'm there." She turned to Ron. "We'll have to get a Portkey, I think, and - oh, but do you think your parents will let you go?"

"I'm an adult now, Hermione, I can do what I want," Ron said. "But I'm sure they'll be supportive. They'll understand - it's your family."

Hermione nodded happily and began rattling off a list of things they would need, reaching into her bag and pulling out a parchment to make notes.

Harry smiled at her fondly, but he was thinking about Voldemort and Tom now. It was good that Hermione and Ron were going away for a bit; he had a lot to sort out and he would need space to do it.

After they finished their lunch, Ron and Hermione left for the Burrow to tell Ron's parents.

Harry saw them off, then headed upstairs to look for Tom.


	11. Chapter 11

He checked the bedroom on the third floor first. Tom wasn't there.

Harry sighed and sat down on the bed. "Tom?" he called, after casting a Muffliato Charm. "Can you hear me?" He waited; moments later, Tom stalked into the painting.

"What do you want, Potter?" Tom asked coldly, his face impassive.

"I want to apologise," Harry said.

Tom's eyes narrowed but he remained silent.

Harry went on, "You can't blame me for questioning your motives - you've been nice to me, but the Diary Horcrux was nice to me too, so I think I had a fair point about that. But I know you're not Voldemort."

Tom gazed at him, his expression stony. "I am not the Diary Horcrux either," he said finally.

"I know you're not."

"No, I don't think you do. I don't think you understand the difference."

"Explain it then."

"The Horcrux was Dark, made with Dark magic; the soul fragment was therefore tainted, and further corrupted by the magic used in the ritual that split it in the first place. What I am is different. The whole of my soul had also been corrupted from having made the two Horcruxes, but the Parselmagic ritual required a purification of my soul before I could even begin the process of transforming the essence into a tangible form which I could then draw from. As I explained before, Parselmagic is natural magic - it's neutral, which means it's neither Light nor Dark. As such, in order to best perform the Solidum Essentia Animae ritual, I had to purify my soul and restore it to its natural, neutral state. I then performed the ritual, successfully transforming the essence of my soul into a solid form, which I was then able to draw from. So, that's what  _I_  am: the natural, neutral essence of my soul. Not the Dark, corrupted fragment that the Diary Horcrux was."

Harry frowned. "When Voldemort did the same ritual did he purify his soul too?"

"He tried. But he'd split it too many times, and it was unstable. That's why he gave me his memories. He wasn't certain the ritual would work the same way it did for me, or even at all. So he thought, if it didn't work, he would at least be restored to being the Tom Riddle of 1945, but with all of  _his_  memories and knowledge. The purification was not successful, because his soul by that point was irreparably corrupted. He performed the ritual anyway; and it worked - but only because he was such an extraordinarily skilled and knowledgeable wizard."

"So Voldemort's soul essence is Dark and yours isn't?"

"Precisely."

"But then you made the third Horcrux a year later, corrupting your soul again."

"That wasn't me - that was Voldemort," Tom said. He seemed determined to make that distinction, as if he wanted to separate himself from it. "Although I was planning to make it," he conceded after a moment. "Once I could find a worthy container."

"Why though?" Harry asked. "I don't get it. Why weren't the two Horcruxes - and the portrait - enough for you?"

"I thought seven was the right number of times to split the soul, seven being such a powerful magical number." He gazed at Harry, his expression sombre. "I was wrong obviously. I never should have made the Horcruxes at all. I know that now. I regret it. I wish I had only done the portrait."

"Do you regret making the Horcruxes because they were destroyed ... or ...?"

"I regret making them because splitting the soul corrupts not only the fragment, but also the wizard," he said. "Every time Voldemort made a Horcrux, he got further removed from his sanity and his humanity. The more he made, the worse it got. I know what it did to him - through his memories, I have seen how he went from being me as I am now, to what he is now. Splitting the soul shouldn't be done. Not even once; the price one has to pay is not worth it. I didn't understand that before but I do now. There is a lot I understand now that I didn't before," he said quietly.

"Like what?" Harry prompted when he didn't continue.

Tom was quiet. Finally he said, "I understand what one's humanity is worth, and how precious it actually is. I hated it, before. I thought it was my greatest weakness, and something to eradicate. Now I consider it my strength."

"That's ... a very big change," Harry said.

"I mean it," Tom said seriously. "You can't imagine, Harry, what it was like for me - to wake up in the portrait ... with Voldemort. There he was - my future self - and I suddenly had all his memories and knowledge, and I knew everything he had done and everything he had become, and it was ... horrifying. Sickening. I know I've lied and manipulated and hurt people ... I've done the darkest of magics, and I've committed murder. But he has done things I could never have even imagined. Terrible things. Unspeakable things." He shuddered. "It has been profoundly affecting," he said quietly, "to see in myself the ... seeds ... that Voldemort took further to such unthinkable extremes."

Harry nodded, understanding what Tom meant.

"It has made me ... question many of my past actions and decisions," Tom continued softly. "Voldemort's goals were my goals, but to see them carried out as they were - " He broke off, looking disturbed. "Before, I didn't care what I did or what I'd have to do to further my ambitions."

"And now ...?"

"I realise there are lines that should not be crossed," Tom said solemnly. "I was so consumed with learning and mastering the Dark Arts, I didn't care what price I'd have to pay for it. But now I know the consequences are more far-reaching than I'd previously thought."

"Wait. Are you saying you regret immersing yourself in the Dark Arts?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Perhaps, to some extent," Tom said. "I regret the cost," he clarified. "I enjoyed the Dark Arts, so I won't pretend it's out of the goodness of my heart, because it isn't. I haven't seen the Light and now I'm suddenly 'good'. I regret the consequences of immersing myself so deeply - because of the effect they had, not because I've suddenly developed a moral conscience."

"Oh. Right," Harry said.

"You look disappointed. I'm only being honest. I don't have the same morals that you do, Harry. I just don't. I'm sorry if that upsets you."

Harry was silent for a moment. "I'm just trying to understand," he said finally.

"I was good at the Dark Arts - very good. One takes pleasure in what they're good at. You're quite good at defense against the Dark Arts. Do you not take pleasure in your talent? I wanted to be great. I wanted to be the greatest and most powerful wizard to ever live. I found Dark magic to be more powerful and more compelling than Light magic. It's dangerous and very seductive - there's a rush one feels when casting Dark spells that can be quite addictive." He paused and looked at Harry consideringly. "You yourself cast two of the Unforgivables. Did you not feel a rush when you cast the Imperious Curse on the goblin and the Death Eater at Gringotts? Did you not feel it when you Crucioed Bellatrix after she killed your godfather?"

"I didn't really succeed when I tried it with Bellatrix. I did cast it successfully on Amycus Carrow though, at Hogwarts just before the battle."

"Oh? And did you feel it then?"

"Yes," Harry said, remembering.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"It wasn't like that," Harry protested. "It wasn't enjoyment exactly; I felt satisfaction, because it was justified. He deserved it."

"I see. And do you regret it? Do you wish you hadn't done it?"

"No, because he  _deserved_  it," Harry said defensively. "He spat in McGonagall's face!"

"So you  _don't_  regret it. Do you see? You felt justified in casting that spell - an Unforgivable. I felt justified too, in learning the Dark Arts. I saw it as the path to greatness and power - "

"Did you feel justified when you killed Myrtle, an innocent girl who had done nothing to you?" Harry interrupted. He was still feeling defensive. It was true, he had taken pleasure in casting the Cruciatus Curse on Amycus Carrow, but he wasn't like Tom; he hadn't taken pleasure in casting Sectumsempra on Draco, and he hadn't  _murdered_  anyone.

"She caught me opening the Chamber of Secrets," Tom said. "She would have told on me and got me expelled from Hogwarts. I was desperate. So ... yes, I felt justified."

Harry stared at him.

"I do regret it though, because of the consequences. It tainted my soul. And it started Voldemort on the path of murder and megalomania. If I could go back, knowing what I know now, I would have made different choices. I would have Obliviated her instead of setting the Basilisk on her, for example. I would have tried to hold back from killing my father - "

"You would? Really?" Harry found that surprising.

"It was because I killed him that I had to kill my grandparents," Tom said. "That was the real turning point, I think. I had that brief moment where everything could have changed for me. Since waking in the portrait and seeing the future in Voldemort, I have thought about what might have been if I'd been able to live with them. It wasn't that I  _cared_  for them, but I knew I could respect them at least, which I certainly hadn't felt for anyone else in my family. I had ambition to be great and powerful beyond all other wizards, but I had no money and no connections. I was ... pathetic. I had gone to the Gaunt house to meet my wizard family - my grandfather Marvolo - and ... you can imagine the disappointment and disgust I felt when I met my uncle, Morfin. My Muggle grandparents were far more promising. They had an estate; they were wealthy and distinguished and were of good standing. I hated Muggles intensely but I could have accepted them. If things had gone differently, I might have lived with them and I wouldn't have had to struggle the way I did. I wouldn't have had to go back to the orphanage. I might have left Hogwarts with a better plan than working at Borgin and Burkes ..." He trailed off, his expression pensive.

"There was more to it than that though, wasn't there?" Harry pressed. "When I saw the memory I felt what you were feeling. You might not have cared for them exactly, but you did care that they were your family. You wanted to be accepted by them."

Tom froze. "Yes, perhaps I did," he said finally.

"Why are you trying to paint yourself as purely cold and rational? You said you appreciate your humanity now."

"I am not used to acknowledging that part of myself," Tom answered after a moment. "I do appreciate my humanity, but I still find any kind of sentimentality in myself ... difficult to accept," he admitted. "It's a hard habit to break."

Harry gazed at him. "You're being surprisingly forthright."

Tom inclined his head. "I have decided to be honest with you," he said. "You'll likely learn soon enough how to take advantage of our mind link, so there's no point in trying to keep anything from you because you'll only find out about it later."

"So it's a calculated decision."

"Yes," Tom said bluntly. "Though if it were anyone else, it would be different. It's because of _you_ that I choose to ... share my true thoughts. Despite our differences in morals and magical affinity, we have a lot of similarities, Harry. We're both orphans. We're both half-bloods. Neither of us knew we were wizards until we were invited to Hogwarts. We both look remarkably like our fathers. And both our mothers made great sacrifices for us, ultimately losing their lives for it - yours by standing between you and Voldemort, and mine by lifting the spell over my father." He stared at Harry, his dark eyes unfathomable. "I've never met anyone like you before ... someone with whom I have so much in common."

Harry stared back at him. The Diary Tom had talked about their similarities too, but this Tom seemed very different. "And that means something to you?" Harry said.

Tom's expression shifted. His eyes were piercing. "Yes. It does."

The atmosphere between them felt charged suddenly with a strange kind of tension.

Their eyes locked, and the feeling grew more pronounced. The dream from earlier that morning flashed in Harry's mind unbidden; and for a moment, he remembered what Tom's lips felt like against his.

Tom's eyes narrowed, as if he knew what Harry was thinking. He smirked.

Harry flushed, and hastily averted his gaze.

"It's rather ... compelling, don't you think?" Tom said softly.

Harry swallowed. "What?" His face felt hot.

"How much we have in common. It's quite remarkable, really."

Harry looked back up at the painting. Tom was staring at him intently. "I've always noticed the similarities," Harry said, trying to sound normal. "The Diary Horcrux noticed too and mentioned it, right before he set the Basilisk on me."

Tom's face instantly shuttered. "I'm not the Diary Horcrux."

"I know you're not," Harry said. "I'm just telling you. He talked to me about our 'strange likenesses' - I think he'd initially thought it made me more of an equal and a threat to him, but after he learned of my mother's sacrifice, he dismissed our similarities as unimportant."

Tom was silent for a moment, then he said, "Will you show me the memory? I would like to see it. I want to know what happened. Perhaps then I can understand why you keep comparing me to the Horcrux."

Harry hesitated. Hadn't Tom himself warned him that showing his memories was giving up knowledge that could be used against him?

"I will show you a memory of your choice in return," Tom said.

Harry nodded. "All right, that's fair." He racked his brain, trying to think of what he most wanted to see. "Will you show me your memory of the first time you purposefully used magic against anyone at the orphanage?"

Tom's lips tightened. "Very well, if that's what you want to see." He didn't look very happy about it. "I suppose you want me to go first?"

"Yes."

Tom reached into his robes and took out his wand, then placed the tip to his temple. His face screwed up in concentration for several seconds then he cast the spell.

The memory began:

Tom was outside, reading a book. He looked to be about eight years old or so. He was sitting alone but there were other children playing nearby.

The other children began to chant suddenly:

"Tom Riddle,

he's dirty spittle,

he has no friends

and he smells of piddle."

Tom's hands clenched around his book but he ignored them as they continue to chant the rhyme, again and again.

Two boys and a girl broke from the group and approached him, their faces twisted with malice.

"What's the matter, Tom?" one of the boys said, smiling cruelly. "Haven't got anyone to play with?"

Tom didn't acknowledge them.

The boy kicked him. "Look at me, Spittle!"

Tom looked up, his expression cold. "Go away." There was the same ringing force in his voice as there had been when he told Dumbledore to tell the truth in Dumbledore's Pensieve memory.

For a moment, the three children obeyed the command, beginning to turn and walk away; but then they turned back and formed a circle around him.

The girl reached down and snatched Tom's book away, then held it over her head. The two boys laughed.

Tom jumped to his feet and tried to grab it back but the girl passed it to the boy next to her. "Give it back!" he hissed. The boy passed it to the other boy then shoved Tom hard with both hands. Tom stumbled backwards but stayed upright. He advanced on the boy, his face contorted with rage, and swung at him.

The boy ducked out of the way; then he launched himself at Tom, knocking him to the ground. He managed to get astride him, then he began punching Tom in the face. Tom struggled to break free, but the other boy was bigger and stronger. The other two children were laughing and shouting encouragement to Tom's attacker.

"Get 'im, Billy! Show 'im what's what!" the other boy yelled gleefully.

Tom put his hands up to protect his face. Billy called out, "Help me! Hold his hands back, Dennis!"

Dennis tossed the book aside and got down and grabbed Tom's hands, pulling them up over Tom's head and pinning them to the ground. Tom struggled violently, trying to buck Billy off him.

"Hold his legs down, Amy!" Billy shouted.

Amy threw herself down onto Tom's legs, then straddled him behind Billy.

"Get off me!" Tom bellowed, and suddenly Billy, Dennis and Amy were flying through the air, knocked back by Tom's magic.

Tom rolled over and pushed himself off the ground, getting to his feet. His nose was bleeding. "Don't ever touch me again!" he hissed.

The three children stared up at him dazedly, looking confused. Tom's eyes narrowed in sudden concentration; all at once, the three children gasped sharply and clutched their stomachs, as if they'd been punched. "Don't ever touch me again," Tom repeated, his voice cold.

He spotted his book on the ground and marched over to it, leaning down and snatching it up, then began to walk away.

The memory ended abruptly.

The painting and Tom came back into focus. Tom had his arms crossed and he looked irate. "That's just a taste of what I had to endure from those filthy Muggles," he said lowly, his eyes flashing.

"I understand," Harry said softly. "I got the same treatment from my cousin and his gang. They called it Harry Hunting. They would catch me and hold me down and beat me up, five against one. They made my life hell."

"But you didn't fight back, did you? I imagine you think you're better than me for 'rising above it'," Tom sneered.

"I don't know ... if I could have done what you did - if I'd known how - I probably would have done it too. I'm not a saint. There's a lot you've done that I don't understand, but that - I don't think was wrong. You were defending yourself."

Tom's rigid stance relaxed a bit. He nodded tersely.

As they gazed at one another in the silence that followed, it seemed to Harry as if a small measure of understanding had been reached between them.

After a moment, Tom spoke. "I'd like to see  _your_ memory now," he said pointedly.

Harry nodded and took out his wand. "Do you want to see the whole thing? Do you want all of my interaction with the Diary Horcrux or just what happened in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"All of it."

Harry pressed the tip of his wand to his temple and concentrated, then cast the spell.

The memory began:

Harry and Ron were in the girls' bathroom with Myrtle. Harry had just picked up the diary from the floor. He began flipping through it but it was blank. "He never wrote in it," he said to Ron, disappointed.

The memory skipped ahead, to Valentine's Day, when Harry first met Horcrux Tom. He had gone to his bed early so he could examine the diary. Earlier that day, he'd had that scuffle with the singing dwarf, which resulted in his school bag ripping and an ink bottle smashing all over his things, drenching his books with ink - all except the diary. He wanted to investigate whether the ink had been absorbed by it or if the diary was just enchanted to repel it. He got out a new bottle of ink and dipped his quill in it, then he held the quill over the first page of the diary. A blot of ink dripped onto it, then disappeared. He dipped his quill again and wrote, " _My name is Harry Potter_." The words disappeared after a moment, then new words appeared: " _Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary_?"

Harry and Tom watched in silence as Memory Harry and Horcrux Tom wrote back and forth to each other. Then Horcrux Tom offered to show Harry his memory of what happened at Hogwarts in his time. Memory Harry accepted, and he was sucked into the diary.

They watched as Memory Harry looked around Headmaster Dippet's office, confused, until Tom appeared and Harry realised he was inside Tom's memory as a spectator. After Tom and Dippet talked, Tom left the office and Harry followed; he observed the conversation between Tom and Dumbledore and then followed Tom to the dungeon, where Tom found the young Hagrid crouched in front of an open door, a huge box next to it, whispering, "C'mon ... Got to get yeh outta here ... c'mon now ... in the box ..."

"Evening, Rubeus," Tom said, his voice sharp.

In the present, Harry looked over at Tom in the painting and said quietly, "Hagrid is my friend, so this is hard to watch."

Tom nodded, his face unreadable.

"It's all over," Tom was saying to young Hagrid. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh - "

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you let it out for exercise and - "

"It never killed no one!" Hagrid cried.

"Come on, Rubeus. The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered ..."

"It wasn' him! He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," Tom said, drawing his wand.

The memory skipped forward: Harry was looking at the wall, beyond which was the Chamber of Secrets. He stared at the two, entwined serpents that adorned the wall then said in Parseltongue,  **::** _ **Open**_ **::** The wall cracked open and Harry entered the Chamber. He began walking down the long passageway, looking for Ginny; then he saw her, lying face down on the floor between the stone feet of the statue of Salazar Slytherin. He rushed forward and tried to revive her. Then Horcrux Tom appeared.

In the present, Harry sneaked a look at Tom in the painting, wanting to see his reaction. Tom looked disturbed. This was going to be very uncomfortable to watch together, Harry realised. Turning his attention back to the memory, he resolved not to look at Tom again until it was over.

Horcrux Tom had just picked up Memory Harry's wand and was making his true intentions clear.

The confrontation escalated quickly. Tom explained that he had been the one behind everything, and that he had possessed Ginny, setting the Basilisk on the four Muggleborn students and Mrs Norris.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," he said. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where  _you_  came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was  _you_ , the very person I was most anxious to meet ..."

"And why did you want to meet me?"

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole  _fascinating_  history. I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."

"Hagrid's my friend," Harry said. His voice was shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but - "

Tom laughed. "It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so  _brave_ , school Prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit, even  _I_  was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought  _someone_ must realise that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken  _me_  five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance ... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!

Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did ..."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled. I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it. No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again."

"Haven't I already told you that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me any more? For many months now, my new target has been -  _you_." He paused to let Harry take that in, then continued, "Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery - particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue ...

So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became  _very_  boring. But there isn't much life left in her: she put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave the pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat.

Tom smiled pleasantly. "Well, how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort is my past, present and future, Harry Potter ..." Tom said softly, drawing Harry's wand from his pocket. He traced it through the air, writing three words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters rearranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

"You see?" Tom said, his voice a whisper. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name for ever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Harry stared at Tom. "You're not," he finally said.

"Not what?" Tom snapped.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world. Sorry to disappoint you, and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days."

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere  _memory_  of me!"

"He's not as gone as you might think!"

And then Fawkes appeared, dropping the Sorting Hat at Harry's feet, then landing heavily on Harry's shoulder.

"That's a phoenix ..." Tom said. "And  _that_  - that's the old school Sorting Hat." Tom began to laugh. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" His laughter rang out through the Chamber and Harry just stared at him.

"To business, Harry," he said after a moment. "Twice - in  _your_  past, in  _my_  future - we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. _How did you survive_? Tell me everything. The longer you talk, the longer you stay alive."

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," Harry said. "I don't know myself. But I know why you couldn't  _kill_ me. Because my mother saved me. My common  _Muggle-born_ mother. She stopped you killing me. And I've seen the real you, I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul!"

Tom looked enraged, then he smiled. "So," he said. "Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm. I can see now - there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even _look_ something alike ... But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know." His twisted smile grew wider. "Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him."

Then he called forth the Basilisk.

Watching his Memory self fight the serpent, Harry felt a strange mix of pride and sadness. He wondered how Tom felt watching his Horcrux self. Was the Diary Tom as horrifying to him as he was to Harry? Harry hoped so. He wanted to believe that Tom had changed, that seeing Voldemort had shaken him so profoundly, he had a whole different perspective now. He seemed to be full of regret, if not remorse. Harry could only hope the Tom he had been getting to know was the real Tom, and not an act.

When Memory Harry stabbed the diary with the Basilisk fang, Harry heard a sharp gasp from Tom in the painting. He looked over and saw that Tom was visibly distressed.

"Did you feel that?" Harry asked him, alarmed. "Did that hurt you?"

"Not physically," Tom answered in a strained voice.

The memory had finished. Harry stood up and walked over to the painting. "Are you ... all right?" he asked Tom.

Tom shook his head. He looked overcome. "Give me a moment," he said hoarsely, and he turned and walked over to the tree in the painting and disappeared behind it.

Harry heard a choked sob a moment later; he turned away, wanting to give Tom some privacy.

"I'll come back," Harry said softly, and he headed for the door. He opened it, then turned back to the painting. "I'll be back," he repeated.

Then he walked out, closing the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry went downstairs, stopping in the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some water on his face, then he headed down to the kitchen to get something to drink. He was torn; he wanted to give Tom some privacy and space but watching the memory had been intense and Tom had obviously been affected by it, and Harry wanted to talk to him about his reaction. After downing a glass of pumpkin juice he decided to wait for another couple of minutes. Just as he was about to go up, Kreacher appeared with a loud crack.

"Kreacher has a message for Master," the house-elf croaked.

Harry frowned. "A message? What is it?" he said.

Kreacher handed him a folded piece of parchment. Harry unfolded it and read:

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Teddy and I would like to invite you for tea tomorrow afternoon at 3 o'clock. I do apologise for the short notice - I tried to send an owl over the weekend but the message couldn't be delivered since your house is unplottable. Kreacher has informed me that he will return to me with your reply. If tomorrow is inconvenient, please let me know what time and day would work for you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Andromeda Tonks_

"How did you get this?" Harry asked, going to the cupboard to get out some parchment and a quill.

"Kreacher was at the market and Miss Andromeda recognised him and asked Kreacher to give it to Master," the house-elf explained.

Harry sat down and quickly began writing out a reply, accepting the invitation. "We'll have to key her owl into the wards," he said. At the moment the only owls that could get through were Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, and the Weasley family owl, Errol.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher can arrange that if Master would like, when Kreacher delivers Master's reply."

Harry nodded, then mused, "I'll want to bring a gift for Teddy tomorrow so I'll go to Diagon Alley in the morning to look for something ... maybe I'll stop in at Eeylops Owl Emporium and get a new owl too." He had been too broken up over the loss of Hedwig to get one before and instead had been asking Kreacher to use the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley to send owls for him.

"Very good, Master," Kreacher replied.

Harry signed the parchment then folded it and handed it to Kreacher. "Don't forget to key her owl into the wards," he said.

"Yes, Master." The house-elf inclined his head and bowed, then disappeared with a crack.

As soon as he was gone, Harry quickly made his way upstairs.

Tom had emerged from behind the tree and was now sitting on the grass in front of it.

Harry sat down on the bed and looked at him more closely. Tom had a strange expression on his face; then he winced suddenly, as if he were in pain. "Are you okay?" Harry asked in concern.

Tom's eyes squeezed shut. "Voldemort won't get out of my head," he said through clenched teeth.

"What?"

Tom let out a harsh breath. "I can usually block him out when I'm this far enough away from him ... but he felt my ... emotion and now he's pushing harder."

"He's talking to you right now?"

Tom winced again and clutched his forehead. "Yes," he gasped. It looked like he was being tortured.

Harry jumped up, propelled into action. "I'll be right back," he said and he rushed up to the fourth floor and threw the door to his bedroom open.

Voldemort had a horrible look on his face and he was laughing sadistically.

"Leave Tom alone," Harry said furiously.

"Oh! Are you his protector now?" Voldemort cackled.

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. "Leave him alone," he repeated.

Voldemort pretended to consider it. "No. I don't think I will."

Harry marched up to the painting and yanked it off the wall then marched it determinedly to Sirius' room. He then placed it so it was directly facing the posters of the bikini-clad Muggle girls. "Until you can behave yourself," he said coldly, "this is the view you get. No more Slytherin colours. You get Gryffindor banners, Muggle girls and motorcycles." He ignored Voldemort's outraged objections and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

When he got back to the third floor bedroom he saw immediately that Tom looked better. "Did it stop?" he asked him.

Tom stared at him with a thoughtful expression, then nodded. "What did you do?"

Harry told him.

Tom let out a little chuckle. "Oh yes, he'll hate that."

"What was he saying to you?" Harry asked.

Tom's lips tightened. "The usual, just worse. He was also flooding my mind with images of things he's done; he knows how much that torments me. I told you, he revels in inflicting misery - on you and me both. He knows exactly what to exploit. I'm ordinarily an excellent Occlumens but when I feel ... great emotion ... he can get through."

Harry nodded understandingly. "Seeing the memory upset you," he prompted, hoping Tom would talk about it.

Tom was silent for a moment. "Yes," he finally said.

At Harry's questioning look, he sighed heavily. "Watching a piece of my soul get destroyed was ... difficult. And seeing that version of myself, my first Horcrux - knowing where it all led, how it turned out, what I became - was disturbing. It  _was_  me," he admitted, "but Darker and more insane - a reflection of  _Voldemort_." His expression clouded. "I don't - " He broke off.

"You don't what?" Harry pressed.

Tom let out a breath. "I don't want to be like that. That's not how I want to be," he said unhappily.

He looked so miserable, Harry felt a rush of sympathy for him.

"I'm not like them," Tom said, his tone vehement. "I'm not insane like them. I'm not a psychopath."

Harry could only imagine what he was feeling. Waking up in the portrait and seeing Voldemort had clearly shaken him to the core. And seeing the Diary Horcrux had only rattled him further, perhaps because it hit closer to home.

Tom had turned away; he was gazing off into the distance, lost in thought. Finally, he looked back at Harry. "I'm not your enemy," he said quietly. "I hope you know that. I don't share Voldemort's grudge against you. I'm  _glad_  you defeated him." His gaze was intense, his eyes almost beseeching. "Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly. He wanted to believe him, more than anything. Perhaps it was foolish but he couldn't help it - he wanted to believe that this Tom was different, that he was changed after seeing his future self, that he was capable of being better than he'd been.

"I didn't just watch the memory," Tom said, "I  _felt_  it, from your perspective. It was very affecting. I never really felt empathy before, but watching your memories and seeing and feeling things from your perspective, I think I can understand more what empathy feels like. In any case, it's different with you, and I don't think it's just because of our mind connection. "

Harry stared at him.

"We're in this unique position where we each know so much about the other," Tom continued. "I only 'met' you yesterday ... but it feels like we've known each other for a long time. You know me," he said softly, "in a way no one else has - in a way no one else could."

"Yeah ... I know what you mean," Harry said quietly. He felt the same way.

They regarded each other in silence for a long moment.

"It's strange ... I don't even resent it." Tom's voice was thoughtful. "You know my greatest secrets. You know my history, and my background. You know my weaknesses. But I find I don't mind it."

"Maybe it's because you know so much about me too."

"Perhaps. Yes, that's part of it," Tom said. "But if it were anyone else, it would be different."

"Why?"

Tom paused. "Because  _you're_  different. I don't respect many people, but I respect you."

"You do?" Harry said, surprised.

"You're very powerful, and very accomplished. I admire that."

"I'm not that powerful," Harry said. "I'm good at defensive magic but I'm nothing special."

"You're more powerful than you think. Your magic got past my enchantments in the portrait. That shouldn't have even been possible, believe me." He looked at Harry seriously. "Voldemort fears you. He didn't think you were that powerful either, but he does now. He respects you too. He hates you, but he respects you."

Harry shook his head. "Most of what I've accomplished was through luck or special circumstances." He paused, thinking about it. "The only notable thing I did maybe was casting that Patronus in third year against the Dementors."

"Casting a Patronus at all is difficult, but doing it in your third year is very impressive." Tom's expression turned quizzical. "There's nothing about it in Voldemort's memories. What happened?"

"I had a run-in with a Dementor on the train going to Hogwarts and it affected me really badly. Dementors were guarding the school that year because Sirius had escaped from Azkaban so Lupin taught me the Patronus Charm to protect myself. The first time I successfully cast a full-bodied Patronus was in the middle of a Quidditch match - I was chasing the Snitch and I thought I saw Dementors in the stands so I cast it and it went after them." He snickered. "It turned out it was Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint dressed like Dementors."

Tom chuckled.

"The second time was the notable one though. A bunch of Dementors - real ones - were after Sirius. I tried to cast a Patronus to stop them from getting him and Hermione and me but it wasn't working. Then I saw a full-bodied Stag coming from across the lake. I thought it was somehow my dad but it turned out it was actually me, from the future - I'd used a Time Turner with Hermione, and because I had seen that I  _could_  do it, I was able to cast the Patronus, and it drove the Dementors away."

Tom looked interested. "I'd like to see that. Will you show me?"

"All right," Harry said. "If you show me a memory too." He was curious to see what form Tom's Patronus took. "Will you show me the first time you cast a Patronus?"

Tom's face shuttered. "I never cast one," he said stiffly.

"Oh."

"The Patronus Charm is impossible to cast if one doesn't have a happy memory to draw from," Tom said, his expression stony. "Because it's Light magic, the spell can backfire on those with Dark affinities - it can actually kill the caster if they don't use a properly happy memory. I never wanted to risk it."

The thought that Tom didn't have any happy memories made Harry sad. "All right," he said quickly, not wanting the mood to get darker, "will you show me your memory of when you got Sorted?"

Tom nodded. "If you wish."

Harry looked at him expectantly.

Tom sighed and took his wand out and pressed the tip to his temple. He closed his eyes in concentration. Then he cast the spell.

The memory began:

Tom was standing in the line waiting to get Sorted. His expression was cold and haughty, but Harry had tapped into their connection and could feel his excitement. Tom was feeling very much like Harry had when he first got to Hogwarts. Harry felt his fascination and curiosity, and awe that such a wonderful place existed; he felt Tom's sense of belonging - Tom was feeling at home for the first time in his life.

"Riddle, Tom!" a familiar voice called.

With a start, Harry realised it was Dumbledore who was conducting the Sorting.

Tom stepped forward and made his way to the stool, his face unreadable. Harry noticed that Dumbledore was watching him closely. Tom sat down on the stool and waited.

Then Dumbledore placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Very interesting!" the Hat said to Tom after a moment. "A brilliant mind, yes, quite brilliant. You would do well in Ravenclaw. But power, such _power_ \- and ambition, oh my! You have a tremendous thirst to prove yourself, I can see. There's greatness in your future. Oh yes, there's no doubt, you're SLYTHERIN!"

A look of satisfaction flickered across Tom's face as the Sorting Hat shouted out the last word to the Hall. Everyone clapped politely but no one looked especially interested, except Dumbledore, whose expression had sharpened. Dumbledore removed the Hat, and Tom got up off the stool and walked over to the Slytherin table. The other Slytherins looked at him briefly but ignored him as he sat down.

The memory ended.

The painting came back in focus. Tom was frowning and looking pensive.

"It's weird," Harry said to him. "The Sorting Hat said something similar to me. Except it put me in Gryffindor, because I didn't want to be in Slytherin."

Tom nodded. "I'm curious to see it," he said. "Will you show me?"

Harry wanted to see it himself, truth be told. He nodded and took out his wand, placing the tip to his head, then concentrated on the memory, and cast the spell.

The memory began:

Harry was waiting in line, looking visibly nervous. Sally-Anne Perks had just been Sorted and was getting up off the stool. Then McGonagall called out, "Potter, Harry!"

Whispers of excitement immediately began erupting all over the Hall.

" _Potter_ , did she say?"

" _The_  Harry Potter?"

"He's at Hogwarts -  _The Boy Who Lived_?"

Harry went over to the stool and sat down, trying to ignore the stares and whispers.

McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Hmm," it said after a moment. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... So where shall I put you?"

Harry's whole body tensed; he was thinking, "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin, eh?" the Hat said. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure - better be GRYFFINDOR!"

The memory ended, and Harry looked over at Tom.

"You were right - it  _was_  quite similar," Tom said. His eyes were piercing. "You see? We really do share many similarities, Harry. Even the Sorting Hat saw it."

"I know. But ... do you think when the Hat said I could be great - that it was all there in my head - do you think it meant it literally? Voldemort's  _soul shard_  was in my head - do you think that's what it meant? Do you think the Sorting Hat saw it and was referring to it?"

Tom's expression turned thoughtful. "I don't know ... how could the soul shard make you great? If anything, it was an antagonistic presence, not a helpful one. I think the Sorting Hat was referring to you. It said  _you_  could be great, not that there was greatness inside you."

"I guess ..." Harry said uncertainly.

"Why do you doubt yourself?" Tom asked, frowning. "You  _are_  great. You've accomplished extraordinary things. You defeated Voldemort, for one thing. But not just that. You defeated the Basilisk in your second year. You got the Philosopher's Stone in your first year. You were the Tri-wizard Champion, at age fourteen. You were the only wizard to  _ever_  successfully resist Voldemort's Imperious Curse. You broke into Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts and escaped on a  _dragon_. You managed to find all the Horcruxes. And you just mentioned, you successfully cast a Patronus - twice - in your third year." He paused. "I'd still like to see that," he said.

Harry nodded. "Do you want to see it now?"

"Yes."

Harry hesitated.

"I'll show you another memory in return," Tom said, sighing. "What do you want to see?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at his put-upon expression. "I don't know yet. I'll think about it." He raised his wand to his head. "I'll show you both times, since the first one was so funny," he said. He concentrated; then he cast the spell.

The memory began:

Harry had just caught a glimpse of the Snitch and he was chasing it. The pursuit lasted a few minutes and Harry was in top form.

"You're quite a good flier," Tom said as they watched. "Very fast, sharp reflexes."

"Did you ever play Quidditch?"

"No." He looked at Harry. "Can you imagine me playing any kind of sport?"

Harry laughed. "Not really."

Tom smiled at him, and it was so natural and unguarded, Harry felt a strange flutter in his stomach. He grinned back at Tom then turned his attention back to the memory.

"There," he said, spying Draco and the other Slytherins in the Dementor costumes. "See it? There they are."

Memory Harry spotted them too, and without skipping a beat, he pulled his wand out and shouted, " _Expecto patronum_!" A stag burst forth and went straight for the Slytherins, while Memory Harry continued chasing the Snitch, catching it seconds later.

Tom started laughing. "Oh Merlin, that's priceless - you barely even noticed! You just kept going!"

The stag had knocked the Slytherins over and they were on the ground, frantically trying to extricate themselves from the costumes. The expression on Draco's face was hilarious.

Harry chortled at the sight. Tom chuckled in amusement.

Then the memory changed: A hundred Dementors were in the sky over the lake. Sirius was crouched on all fours by the shore, moaning; Harry and Hermione were running over to him.

Harry and Tom both stopped laughing and watched.

The Dementors sailed towards Harry, Sirius, and Hermione and began surrounding them.

"Hermione, think of something happy!" Memory Harry shouted. He began chanting, " _Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!_ " but it wasn't working. Hermione tried too, but she couldn't do it either. Sirius shuddered and passed out. Harry shouted, " _EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " as the Dementors closed in on them, forming a solid wall around them. Hermione collapsed suddenly, unconscious. Harry kept trying; a wisp of silver mist came out of his wand but it dissipated. He tried again but nothing came out.

Tom gasped as one of the Dementors zeroed in on Harry and reached for him; it grabbed Harry, forcing his face upwards, and leaned in, its mouth opening. Harry could hear his mother screaming as the fog surrounded him; then a brilliant light shone from across the lake and got brighter and brighter; the Dementor let go of him and Harry fell onto the grass, sick and shaking. A silver stag appeared from the light and raced towards them, and began driving the Dementors away. Harry saw it for a moment, then passed out.

The memory skipped forward: Harry was running towards the shore on the opposite side of the lake. He got to the edge and hid behind a bush, looking across the way at his past self trying to cast a Patronus. He looked around him, expecting to see his father but no one was there. Then he realised: it was  _him_  -  _he_  had cast the Patronus. He hurled himself out of the bush and lifted his wand, and roared, " _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " A silver stag burst from the end of his wand and charged across the lake, chasing the Dementors away. When all the Dementors were gone, the stag cantered back towards him; it stopped on the bank and looked at him, then bowed. " _Prongs_ ," Harry whispered, reaching out ... then the stag vanished.

The memory ended.

Harry looked over at the painting.

Tom had a stunned expression on his face. "Merlin!" he whispered. He sounded shocked. He looked at Harry. "That was extraordinary," he said, his eyes wide. "And you were just thirteen years old - that's amazing."

"Thanks," Harry said quietly. Watching the memory had been very intense, and he was still struck by it all.

"I can't believe it. That had to have been over a hundred Dementors!" Tom said in astonishment. "And your Patronus - a _single_ Patronus - drove them away." He stared at Harry. "And you don't think you're powerful?" he said incredulously. "I felt it - the whole thing. I felt the Dementor ... I felt your despair ... I heard your mother screaming ... and I felt your power when you cast the Patronus. It was ... remarkable."

"I guess," Harry said, shrugging. It wasn't that impressive, really - he had failed to cast the Patronus when the Dementors were close to him; he could only cast it after, when he was away from them. And honestly, all his friends could cast a Patronus, and so could everyone in the Order. What he did wasn't extraordinary. It seemed most of the people he knew could have done it.

Tom frowned. "You really don't know how powerful you are," he said slowly. "I thought you were just being modest ... but you really don't know."

Harry shrugged again. "I'm nothing special. I know everyone thinks I am - I was famous for being The Boy Who Lived and now I'll be famous for defeating Voldemort - but I don't have any special powers or anything. I didn't get great marks in school, not like Hermione. I don't even know that many spells. Hermione knows loads. I can't do wandless magic. I'm good at defensive magic, but that's it."

Tom stared at him. "Knowledge is different than power, Harry. Your friend may know more spells and may have done better in school than you did, but that has nothing to do with power. And you did wandless magic today," he said. "Powerful enough to get through my enchantments on the portrait."

"That was accidental magic. I can't do it when I'm actually trying to."

"Then it's because you lack focus, not power. You need to meditate and find your magical core. Once you access that you'll be able to do anything."

Harry grimaced. "I'm terrible at meditation."

"Perhaps I can help you," Tom said.

"You would want to?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Why not? I told you, I'm not your enemy. I'm not against you. If I can help you, I will."

"It's just ... I wouldn't have thought you'd be interested in helping with something like that - something that, for you, must be really basic."

"It's true I did find tutoring students at Hogwarts to be painfully tedious - but you're different. I want to help you."

"Because you think I'm powerful?"

"That's part of it."

Harry frowned. "Why else?"

Tom's expression turned cool. "Why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm not," Harry said. "I was just wondering."

"Do you want my help or don't you?" His tone was haughty now, though it seemed to be more defensive than arrogant.

"I ... yes. If you could help me learn to do wandless magic, I would ... like that," Harry said.

Tom nodded and relaxed a bit. "You'll have to go to the vault at Gringotts and get some books - there's one in particular on meditation and magical cores, and another on wandless magic. You might also be interested in some of the Parselmagic books; you could read the introductory book on it and see if it's something you want to explore. You should - Parselmouths are so rare and Parselmagic would give you an advantage because no one else can understand it."

That got his interest. Harry had to admit, he was very curious about Parselmagic. He would definitely get the introductory book and read it, he decided. He had inherited Voldemort's entire library too, he realised suddenly; he hadn't had time to really think about that before. It had looked to be a very extensive collection. "There must be a lot of Dark books and artifacts in the vault," he said. "Can any of it hurt me?"

"Not if you don't go poking around. Nothing's going to jump out at you and attack you but there are some books you'll want to avoid opening and some objects you definitely shouldn't mess about with. Until you're more familiar with the contents of the vault, perhaps the most prudent thing would be to Summon the books I'm suggesting."

Harry nodded. "Okay, I'll do that," he said. "I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning to get a present for my godson so I'll go to Gringotts and get the books then."

"You have a godson?" Tom asked. He looked surprised.

"Yes. Lupin asked me to be godfather to his son, Teddy. I'm going to see him tomorrow afternoon - Andromeda invited me for tea, so I'll get to really meet him; I only got a glimpse of him at the funeral."

"Andromeda?" Tom said quizzically.

"She's Teddy's grandmother. And Narcissa's and Bellatrix's sister. She looks a lot like Bellatrix actually, which is a bit weird. The first time I saw her, I thought she  _was_  Bellatrix and I shouted at her." He grimaced. "I hope tomorrow isn't going to be awkward," he mused aloud. He looked at Tom. "She's the closest family I have in the wizarding world ... that I know of, at least."

Tom nodded. "I knew there was a sister - a blood traitor - but I know very little else. Bellatrix didn't talk about her much."

"Yeah, Voldemort was ... close ... with Bellatrix, wasn't he?" Harry said. "She told me he trained her in the Dark Arts."

"Yes, he did." Tom's lip curled distastefully.

"She was pretty mad about him, like she was in love with him." Harry looked at Tom hesitantly. "Er - were they - "

"No!" Tom said. He looked disgusted by the thought. "Absolutely not."

Harry couldn't help but ask, "Did Voldemort ever have ... a girlfriend?"

Tom stared at him. "No. He never had any interest in that."

Harry looked away, then said, "What about you? Did you have a girlfriend at Hogwarts?"

"No."

Harry looked back at him.

"Girls never held any attraction for me," Tom said, gazing steadily at Harry. His eyes were piercing.

Harry swallowed.

The way Tom was looking at him was unsettling. He looked faintly amused, like he knew something that Harry didn't. His lips had curled into a little smirk, and he was staring at Harry intently, his eyes glittering.

Harry gazed back at him, unable to look away. "So ... you never had any ... er ... liaisons with anyone?" he found himself saying.

Tom's expression didn't waver. "I had a brief dalliance with Abraxas Malfoy," he said slowly, his eyes fixed on Harry's. "Although he didn't remember it - I Obliviated him when I grew tired of him."

"Abraxas  _Malfoy_?" Harry said, shocked.

Tom nodded. "He was Lucius' father."

Harry stared at him, stunned. "What was he like?" he finally asked, unable to help himself.

"He was quite a bit like Lucius, in fact - in looks and personality."

Harry couldn't get his head around it. "Merlin," he whispered.

"Does that shock you, Harry?" Tom said. "You find it shocking that I had a dalliance with a boy?"

"I - no," he said, looking away. "I'm just surprised it was ... a Malfoy." An image of Tom locked in a passionate embrace with someone who looked a lot like Lucius flashed in his mind, and Harry felt a sudden, sick twist of jealousy in his gut. He let out a breath and swallowed hard, forcing the image away. He looked back at the painting.

Tom was staring at him, his face unreadable.

Nonplussed, Harry cast his mind out, trying to think of something to say.

They were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

Harry jumped, startled. "Yes?" he called out sharply. "Come in."

The door opened and Kreacher slouched in. "Dinner will be served in a few minutes, Master." Kreacher looked around the room then back at Harry. "Kreacher heard Master talking," he said, frowning.

Harry realised he had forgotten to cast a Muffliato Charm. "Oh, right," he said quickly. "I was just ... practising some spellwork," he lied.

Kreacher nodded.

"Did you give Andromeda the message?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Master. Miss Andromeda said she is looking forward to seeing Master tomorrow."

Harry glanced over at the painting for a quick second; Tom was gone - he'd either left or cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Harry looked back at Kreacher. "I ... I guess I'll go get ready for dinner then," he said. He stood up, then followed Kreacher out of the room.

 

 x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

After dinner, Harry took a shower then went up to his bedroom to get a change of clothes. He put on a fresh t-shirt and some Muggle pyjama bottoms, then stretched out on the bed. It was only eight o'clock but he was tired. Voldemort was next door in Sirius' room so he decided to stay put and go to sleep early.

But he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, thinking about Tom. After an hour, he gave up and got out of bed. He went down to the library on the ground floor and looked for a book to read, but nothing caught his attention. He had to face it: what he really wanted was to see Tom. It was like a compulsion. Harry was drawn to him, he couldn't deny it. Tom was like a magnetic force he couldn't resist and there was a connection between them that was too compelling to ignore.

He left the library and went up to the third floor bedroom, which was dark, and flopped down on the bed.

"Harry?"

He sat up and turned on the light then looked over at the painting.

Tom was staring at him. He studied Harry closely, a frown on his face.

Harry cast a Muffliato Charm and asked, "Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Do you sleep?" he asked curiously.

"Sometimes," Tom said.

"Can I ask you something?"

Tom nodded, his face inscrutable. He looked tense.

"I'd like to know about the portrait realm. What's it like?"

Tom frowned. "It's like being in a different dimension," he answered.

"How do you move between portraits? Is it like Apparating?"

"No, I walk between them," Tom said.

"How? What does it physically look like?"

"There's a hall of doorways, and each doorway leads to a different portrait or painting."

"Wow. So, when you leave this painting to go to your portrait, you go out into a hall then walk to the doorway that leads to the portrait?"

"Precisely."

"Have you visited all the portraits in the house?"

"No, none of the portraits. I prefer the paintings."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk to any of the portraits. I'd rather visit the paintings. They're more peaceful."

Harry had a lot of questions. "What's it like being in a painting? What does it look like inside it?"

"It's a bit like being in a dream, I suppose," Tom said, looking around. "But being awake inside it."

"Doesn't it get boring? What do you do when you're bored?"

"I meditate," Tom said. "I enter a state of consciousness where there is no time or space."

"Oh." Harry paused. "Is that what you're going to teach me?"

Tom nodded. He looked more relaxed now.

"How did you learn to meditate?" Harry asked after a moment.

"I fell into it naturally," Tom said. "I started doing it at the orphanage before I even got to Hogwarts. It was a kind of escape then."

"Yeah," Harry said, understanding. "When I would get locked in my cupboard for a long time, I would end up kind of retreating inside my mind and I'd go somewhere else."

"Then it shouldn't be too hard to learn to meditate. It's a similar thing." He gazed at Harry, his eyes narrowing. "Did they lock you up a lot?" he asked.

"Yes."

Tom looked angry. "I can't believe Dumbledore made you live there," he said.

Harry shrugged. "I had to live there, because of my mother's protection. Dumbledore could have made them treat me better though," he said darkly. He looked at Tom. "You know what I wonder? Why doesn't the wizarding world have a better system for orphans? Aren't there wizarding orphanages, at the very least?"

"No, there aren't," Tom said quietly.

"You should never have had to live in a Muggle orphanage. If Hogwarts can find Muggleborns, don't they know then who's a wizard or witch at birth? Why do they leave it until we're eleven? We shouldn't have had to wait for our Hogwarts invitations to find out we were wizards. I don't know if a wizarding orphanage is the answer but there should be something."

Tom nodded. "I've asked myself the same questions," he said.

"I also don't understand why they can't make Hogwarts a year-round school for the students who want to stay full-time," Harry said.

"I'm sure they could," Tom said. "Some teachers live at Hogwarts full-time anyway. I don't know why they don't allow students of special circumstances to stay year-round. I was never told a good reason for it."

"Me neither," Harry said. "They need to change the system. Maybe they will now. Who knows how many new orphans there are now, thanks to Voldemort. Where will they go - the ones who don't have any family left? And what about the ones who are too young for Hogwarts?" He took a breath. "It's such a mess. Teddy, my godson, is an orphan - but he's lucky; he has Andromeda and me. What about the ones who don't have anyone?"

Tom stared at him. "Maybe you could do something."

"I want to!" Harry said. "I don't know what I can do but I want to do something."

"You could use Voldemort's money and buy some land and have an orphanage built," Tom suggested quietly.

"Yeah ... " Harry said thoughtfully. "Maybe I could do something like that. I'd use my own money though."

"Or you could use the Riddle House and turn it into an orphanage. It's yours now, you know. You can do what you want with it."

"I don't know," Harry said, "too many people know that Voldemort used to be Tom Riddle. How would I explain that I now own his house?"

"You could tell everyone you want to buy it to turn it into an orphanage," Tom proposed. "Ulbrok could help you draw up some false documents putting it up for auction, and you could 'buy' it then."

"That's ... not a bad idea," Harry said. "I'll think about it. Though, I also like the idea of buying land and building one from scratch."

Tom nodded. "You could do a lot, Harry." He looked at him seriously. "You could be what the wizarding world needs. You have it in you to be a great leader."

"I don't want to be a leader."

"But you are one, naturally," Tom said. "And you're powerful enough to be at the top."

"How is that different from Voldemort?" Harry cried. "I don't want that, Tom. I'm not interested in power or greatness. I want to do something, but I definitely don't want to be a leader of the wizarding world."

Tom sighed. "You already are. You just don't want to see it."

Harry didn't want to talk about it anymore. He changed the subject. "Is there any way Voldemort could get out of the mirror?"

"I sincerely hope not," Tom said. "If he did, he'd try to kill me."

Harry frowned. "Could you defend yourself if he did?"

"I don't know."

"Can we get rid of him? Is there any way?"

"If there is, I don't know what it is," Tom said. "Believe me, I've been trying to think of it."

They both fell silent.

"Are you tired?" Tom asked after a while, looking more closely at Harry.

"Yeah ... a bit," Harry said.

"We can begin the meditation instruction, if you like. The first stage works best if you're a bit drowsy; it makes you more receptive. I'll take you through a guided meditation and it will probably make you fall asleep, but that's okay."

Harry nodded. "All right. What do I do?"

"Lay down and turn off the light," Tom instructed.

Harry lay back and stretched out on the bed, then reached out and turned off the light. The room went dark.

"Now take a deep breath," Tom said, his voice soft. "Slowly inhale, then exhale ..."

Harry obeyed.

"Relax your body ... feel every muscle in your body relaxing, going loose ..."

Tom's voice was soothing. As he continued the instructions Harry felt himself unwinding further and further. He began to drift off, and within minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry was dreaming.

_He was at Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets, walking down the long passageway._

_The scene changed suddenly: he was in the library at Hogwarts, looking at a row of books on the shelf in front of him. It was late at night and the library was deserted. As he studied the books in the dimly lit alcove, trying to make out the titles, he heard a rustling sound; someone was behind him. He spun around to see who it was._

_It was Tom - without saying a word, he stalked forward, predatory, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and pushing him backwards up against the bookcase. His hands held Harry firmly in place; then he leaned forward suddenly and kissed him. Harry froze in surprise, but after a moment he started kissing Tom back. Tom pressed in closer in response, one hand sliding to the back of Harry's neck, his mouth hot and seeking. The kiss grew more amorous, and Harry found himself gasping and clutching Tom's waist as he arched into it, feeling delirious._

_After a time they broke apart to catch their breaths. They stared at one another, their eyes locked together. Harry's heart was racing - the way Tom was looking at him was intense, electrifying. He was so gorgeous, so breathtakingly handsome._ _Inflamed by desire, Harry lunged forward and kissed him again, aggressively. Tom made a growling sound and pulled Harry tightly against him, responding in kind. He kissed Harry with a hunger that should have been frightening - but Harry was just as keen. They surged together, kissing wildly for several long seconds. Suddenly, Tom pulled back. "Wait," he said breathlessly._

_The scene changed: they were in Grimmauld Place in the third floor bedroom and Tom was pushing Harry onto the bed. As Harry fell back, he pulled Tom with him, and they collapsed onto the bed in a tangle; then in one move, swift as a snake, Tom pushed Harry flat on his back and straddled him._

_He gazed down at Harry, his face darkly seductive. His expression was intent, considering. Then he leaned down and kissed Harry, softly. His hand came up to cup Harry's face. He kissed him again, slowly, languidly. The kiss was sensual - very much so - but there was also a sweetness to it that made Harry's heart flutter in his chest. He pulled Tom closer, sliding his hand up to the back of Tom's neck as the kiss deepened. They snogged for a few blissful minutes ... and Harry let himself get lost in it. At some point though, he suddenly became aware of a knocking sound from far away._

_"Ignore it," Tom whispered against his lips._

_Harry could hear another voice in the distance; it sounded a lot like Kreacher._

_"Ignore it," Tom whispered again. "Don't wake up yet ..." Tom's mouth covered his; it was soft, and so warm ... Harry melted into the kiss, his fingers in Tom's hair ... he wanted it to go on and on ..._

_"Master!" the voice called out more insistently._

"Master!"

Harry woke up with a jolt. His eyes flew open; Kreacher was standing next to the bed, staring at him.

"Master slept late. It's time for breakfast," the house-elf said.

Harry blinked at him. His heart was pounding. He sat up, trying to orient himself. He blinked again, and looked over at the painting. Tom wasn't there. He pulled his glasses off - he'd fallen asleep with them on - and scrubbed a hand over his face.

The dream had felt so real.

"Is this Master's bedroom now?" Kreacher asked.

"What?" he said distractedly.

"Is Master moving bedrooms again?"

"Oh. I ... don't know yet," he said, putting his glasses back on and looking at the house-elf. "Maybe. I'm still deciding."

Kreacher nodded. "Master is ready for breakfast?"

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute."

Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a crack.

Harry took a moment to pull himself together, then got up. As he walked to the door he glanced back at the painting, unable to help himself. Tom still wasn't there. Feeling half-relieved and half-disappointed, Harry left and headed downstairs.

 

-x-

 

He ate his breakfast, but barely noticed what he was even eating. The dream had been so real. He couldn't get it out of his head. Harry had known he was physically attracted to Tom - much as he was trying to ignore it - but in the second part of the dream the kissing had been ... almost romantic. And he'd liked it. That was alarming. He couldn't have _romantic feelings_ towards Tom, he thought to himself sternly. There was a connection between them and it made for a certain kind of fascination - but that was it, he told himself firmly; it was physical attraction, nothing more.

What was wrong with him? He seemed to only be attracted to people he shouldn't be attracted to. First Ginny, and now Tom. Out of the handful of people he'd ever felt an attraction towards - Cedric, Sirius, Draco, Ginny and Tom - only Cedric had been a somewhat normal, 'acceptable' crush; Sirius had been his godfather, Draco was a Death Eater, Ginny was ... complicated, and Tom was ... Tom. And the worse thing was, it was Tom he was attracted to the most.

He had to stop thinking about it. He was going to have to talk to Tom after breakfast - he needed the names of the books he was supposed to get from the vault at Gringotts - and he didn't want any of this in his head; what if Tom could see it? Sometimes he looked at Harry like he was reading his mind. Harry cringed, remembering Tom's knowing smirk when Harry had thought about the kiss in the dream from the previous morning. How exactly did their mind link work? Tom had mentioned that Harry would learn soon enough how to take advantage of it. Harry would have to; he wanted to know how far the link went. And what about Voldemort? Harry had a mind link with Voldemort too. How did it work with him? What if he could see Harry's attraction to Tom? Merlin, the thought was mortifying.

Harry pushed his plate away, feeling sick.

Kreacher came bustling over. "Master is finished?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Thanks."

Kreacher nodded and began clearing the table.

Harry got to his feet. "I've got some things to do upstairs for a bit but then I'm going to Diagon Alley," he said. "Do you have any idea what I could get Teddy? What's a good baby gift?"

"Kreacher doesn't know what to get the nasty werewolf baby," the house-elf muttered.

"Kreacher!" Harry said sharply. "I forbid you to ever call him that again."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher said, shuffling away.

Harry huffed in annoyance and left the kitchen, making his way upstairs.

He went to his bedroom and changed out of his bed clothes, putting on a fresh t-shirt, Muggle jeans and a hoodie, then he went next door to check on Voldemort.

"Potter!" the Dark Lord hissed as soon as Harry came into the room. "This ridiculous punishment has gone on long enough."

Tom wasn't in the portrait, Harry noted.

Voldemort was staring at him coldly, his arms crossed. He looked really put out.

Harry wanted to laugh. For a moment, he considered leaving the portrait there permanently, but he wanted to keep it as an effective punishment in the future. "All right, if you've learned your lesson," he couldn't resist saying.

Voldemort sneered at him and said nothing.

Harry took out his wand and Levitated the painting back to his bedroom. "If you don't behave, I'll put you back there," he warned after hanging it on the wall. He looked around the room. "I'm going to have to move to the bedroom downstairs," he mused aloud, turning to look at Voldemort. "I'm not staying in the same room as you."

"You do not mind staying in the same room as my younger self," Voldemort said slyly.

"He might be your younger self, but Tom isn't you," Harry said, his voice cold.

"Oh, he is trying to convince you of that, is he?" Voldemort laughed. "And you believe him. How quaint."

"Shut up," Harry snapped. He knew Voldemort would say anything to push his buttons. He wasn't going to let Voldemort get to him, not this time.

"You have the power to resurrect him, Potter. Why do you think he is playing nice with you? You think he is that different from me?"

"He  _is_  different from you," Harry said.

"Yes, he is  _weak_ ," Voldemort spat, looking disgusted. "He is foolish and weak - he thinks he knows better than me because he has let himself fall prey to his emotions," he said dismissively, waving a hand. "But he  _is_  my younger self - do not have any doubt about that, boy. He has an agenda with you. He is very good at charming people, our Tom - "

"Shut up! I'm not going to listen to you," Harry said.

"You are a fool, Potter, if you believe Tom's little games. It is all part of his plan."

"Drop it," Harry said warningly. "Or I'm going to put you back in the other room."

"Fine," Voldemort said. "Do not say I did not warn you."

Harry shook his head, and turned away. Fucking Voldemort, he thought, fuming. Harry knew he was trying to manipulate him ... but it was working. "I'm going," he said coldly. "I have stuff to do." He went and grabbed his rucksack, then left the room, slamming the door.

He walked down the stairs to the third floor, and paused on the landing to collect himself. Of course he couldn't trust Tom; he  _knew_  that. Tom wasn't Voldemort - and Lily had told him so, Harry reminded himself - but still; he was  _Tom Riddle_ , wasn't he? And Tom Riddle knew how to charm and manipulate. Harry wouldn't forget that. He would play it cool, he decided, and see what kind of game Tom was playing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on reinforcing his Occlumency shields. He didn't know if Occlumency would work against the mind link, but he would employ it anyway. After a minute, he tested his shields; they felt sufficiently fortified. He was ready. He would be vigilant.

He took a breath and went into the bedroom.

Tom was there - and he looked like he'd been waiting for him. He studied Harry closely, his eyes narrowed.

Harry cast a Muffliato Charm and looked back at him, schooling his features into a blank mask.

"You've been talking to Voldemort," Tom said, his eyes still narrowed.

Harry nodded.

"And you let him get to you," he said, coolly.

"No, I didn't," Harry said, his voice even. "I know he's trying to manipulate me. I'm not going to fall for it."

"Oh, really?" Tom said, raising an elegant brow.

Harry tried not to notice how handsome Tom looked, but it was impossible. He forced himself to shrug casually. "Yeah. He said some stuff about you, but I know he's just trying to cause trouble."

Tom's eyes narrowed again.

Harry had the feeling he was trying to use the mind link to read him, and he mentally placed a steel wall between them.

"I see," Tom finally said.

"Relax," Harry said. "I'm not letting Voldemort get to me." He looked at Tom appealingly. "I came in to ask you - will you tell me the titles of the books you want me to get so I can Summon them in the vault? I'm going to Diagon Alley in a minute."

Tom nodded, still looking suspicious. He began rattling off the list.

"Hang on," Harry said, "I want to write it down." He sat down on the bed and opened his rucksack, and took out some parchment and a self-inking quill. "Okay, tell me again."

Tom repeated the list and Harry wrote it down.

"All right," he said afterwards, stuffing the parchment and quill into his rucksack and getting to his feet. "I'm off then. I have a lot of errands to run." He looked at Tom. "I don't suppose you have any suggestions on what kind of gift I could get for my godson? I have no idea what to get a baby."

"Do I look like I'd know?" Tom sneered, his expression haughty.

Harry laughed. "No, I guess not." He turned to go.

"Wait," Tom said. He stared at Harry for a long moment, frowning. "Be careful in the vault," he finally said.

"I will," Harry nodded. He picked up his Invisibility Cloak and threw it over himself, then Apparated to the pavement outside the Leaky Cauldron.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

Diagon Alley was busy. Harry kept the Cloak on, wanting to avoid attention; he knew from experience that he'd be swarmed if he walked out in the open. He would go find a gift for Teddy first, then get the books from the vault, then stop at Eeylops to see if he could find an owl.

Walking down the street, he began looking for a shop that might have baby things. Twilfitt and Tattings had a small display of baby clothes in the window. He wondered if Andromeda would approve or disapprove of the upscale shop; he knew Narcissa and Draco had shopped there in the past. Andromeda was Narcissa's sister - she might have married a Muggleborn and rejected the Dark side, but that didn't mean she wasn't posh.

He decided to go in. After taking his Cloak off in a secluded corner, he approached the friendliest-looking shop assistant.

"I'm looking for a baby gift for my godson," he told her.

Once she got over the surprise that she was talking to the famous Harry Potter, she helped him, showing him various outfits and a selection of baby blankets. He picked a blanket that looked nice and something called a onesie, and had them gift-wrapped. While ringing them up, the shop assistant suggested he visit Emmerlings Emporium. "You could get a magical mobile for above the crib," she said.

He followed her advice. He was helped by a shop assistant there, who showed him their selection of baby mobiles. After picking an animal-themed mobile, he had it gift-wrapped, then Shrunk it to fit in his rucksack.

Finally, he went to Gringotts.

He asked for Ulbrok and waited; after a few minutes, the goblin appeared then ushered Harry to a private room.

"I need to get some books from the vault," Harry told him once they were behind closed doors. "But before I do, I want to know more about my inheritance and the magical confidentiality contract we're all bound to."

"What would you like to know, Mr Potter?" Ulbrok said.

"I want to make sure my status as Voldemort's heir stays a secret."

Ulbrok smiled nastily. "As long as you follow the terms, no one will ever find out," he said.

"Are there any terms I don't know about?"

"No."

"You work for Voldemort - you're on his side," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "How can I trust what you say?"

"I work for both of you now, Mr Potter."

Harry sighed. "This whole thing is ridiculous. How did Voldemort even set it up? If I violate any of the terms how would anyone know?"

"You'll have to ask him that," Ulbrok said. "I cannot answer those kinds of questions."

"Fine," Harry said, annoyed. "Take me to the vault then. I have questions about my holdings but it's too much to go into today. I'll come back later in the week for that."

Ulbrok nodded. "As you wish, Mr Potter."

He led Harry out of the room and down to the area where the carts were, then called for a cart, and they climbed aboard. After a dizzying ride, they got to the vault. Ulbrok opened it and waited outside.

Harry stepped in a couple of feet, then took out the list. He Summoned the meditation book first; when it flew into his hands without incident, he Summoned the book on wandless magic. Then, he intoned in Parseltongue,  _ **:: Accio 'Spirit of the Snake: Secrets of Parselmagic' ::**_  The book flew towards him and he grabbed it out of the air. He shoved the three books into his rucksack, then turned to Ulbrok.

"You're bound by confidentiality in  _our_  dealings as well?" he asked the goblin. "You can't tell anyone about anything you see or hear in regards to me?"

Ulbrok nodded, his eyes glittering.

"Then you won't tell anyone I spoke Parseltongue," Harry said coolly, walking past him and getting into the cart. It was public news that Harry was no longer a Parselmouth - he'd been asked about it during the Daily Prophet interview, and he'd lied and said it was an ability he'd gained from Voldemort's rebounded curse when he was a baby, but it went away when Voldemort died.

Ulbrok grinned, his expression sinister. "No, indeed I won't, Mr Potter. I can imagine you don't want that getting out." He got into the cart and looked at Harry shrewdly for a long moment.

"Let's go," Harry snapped.

Ulbrok chuckled lowly and a second later, the cart lurched forward, and began hurtling its way back to the main part of Gringotts.

After Harry left Gringotts, he went to Eeylops Owl Emporium. When he walked in, he was sharply reminded just how much he missed Hedwig, and he had to steel himself not to turn and walk out. He allowed himself a moment to feel the wave of grief that washed through him, but then he pushed forward. There was an eagle owl that caught his eye immediately. She seemed drawn to him too; she flew over to him and landed gently on his shoulder, and when he turned his head to look at her, she peered at him then leaned over and nibbled on a lock of his hair. She had a sweeter face than most owls, and he liked her instantly.

When he walked out of Eeylops, his arms full with her cage and a bundle of treats, she was still perched on his shoulder. He called for Kreacher. The house-elf appeared moments later; Harry asked him to key her into the wards so she could fly to Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher did so, passing a hand over her and closing his eyes in concentration. After she flew off, he asked, "Does Master need anything else?"

"Er - yeah," Harry said. "I was thinking I should bring something for Andromeda too - do you know what she might like? You knew her at one point, didn't you?"

Kreacher nodded. "Miss Andromeda was always partial to chocolate caramels," he croaked. "Kreacher remembers the kind she prefers - would Master like Kreacher to go and get a box of them?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Harry said. "Thanks."

Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a crack.

Harry Apparated home, straight into the bedroom on the third floor.

Tom was in the painting, sitting on the grass in front of the tree. He looked like he'd been meditating. "Did you get the books?" he said.

Harry put down the cage and the packet of treats, then opened his rucksack and pulled them out. "Yep," he said, showing them to Tom.

Tom nodded. He looked pleased.

"Which one should I read first?" Harry asked.

"The meditation book," Tom answered. "You need to find your magical core and learn to access it before you can do proper wandless magic. The second half of the meditation book is devoted to magical cores." He paused and looked at Harry appraisingly. "Do you want to try something now?"

"Like what? A meditation?"

"Yes. I want to assess whether you can feel your magical core."

Harry thought about it and decided he would let Tom help him but he resolved to be on guard and watchful for any signs of manipulation. "All right. Let me just go check and see if my owl has arrived first - I got a new owl and it's her first time flying here," he said. He put his rucksack down and placed the books on the bedside table. "I'll be right back."

When he got downstairs and opened the front door, he saw that the owl was there, perched on the rail. She hooted and immediately flew over to him, landing on his shoulder. He closed the door then stroked her head. "Do you want to fly around and check out the house?" he asked her quietly, not wanting to wake Walburga. The owl hooted softly and flew off, heading upstairs. Harry followed. She went straight to the third floor and waited for him, perching on the stair rail. "You're a smart girl, aren't you?" he said, petting her head. She hooted. When he opened the door to the bedroom she flew into the room and made a circle then flew back to Harry, landing on his shoulder.

Tom stared at them, his brow raised.

The owl looked at Tom and hooted then started nibbling on Harry's ear.

Harry laughed and went over to the cage, and began setting it up properly.

"What's her name?" Tom asked, watching Harry.

"I don't know yet."

"How about 'Athena'," Tom suggested after a moment.

"Athena?"

"She's the Greek goddess of wisdom, courage and war - she was also thought to be a bird goddess who would sometimes take the form of an owl."

"Oh," Harry said. He looked at the owl. "What do you think? Do you like Athena?"

She hooted and nibbled his ear approvingly.

Harry laughed. "Okay," he said to her. "I guess you're Athena then." He'd finished setting up the cage; Athena flew into it, landing on the perch and hooting. Harry reached in and stroked her then turned and went over to the bed and sat down on it. He looked at Tom. "You said you wanted to assess whether I could feel my magical core ...? How long will that take?"

"It shouldn't take long."

"All right," Harry said. Kreacher would probably be coming back soon so he cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door and then cast a Muffliato Charm for good measure. "What do I do?"

"Come closer," Tom said. "Sit on the floor."

Harry got off up the bed and sat down on the floor.

"No, come closer," Tom said, beckoning him. "I need to look in your eyes." His lips curled up suddenly in an impish half-smile, half-smirk.

Merlin, Harry thought. If he didn't know better, he'd think Tom was almost flirting with him. He shifted closer until he was a couple of feet away from the painting. "Why do you need to look in my eyes?" he asked, frowning.

Tom paused. "I need to look in your eyes so I can get a sense of what you're feeling when we do the exercise," he said carefully. "That way I can help you find your magical core if you have any difficulty."

"Wait. You want to use the mind link - that's what you mean, right? No way," Harry said sharply.

Tom sighed. "I knew you'd react like that," he said. "The link goes both ways, Harry. When it's open, you can feel what I'm feeling too."

Harry stared at him. "So you want to  _open_  the link between us?" he said incredulously. Did Tom think he was stupid?

"What are you afraid of?" Tom said softly. "You think I have some nefarious purpose? What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I don't know," Harry said coolly.

"I understand you don't trust me. I wouldn't either if I were in your position. But the mind link exists between us, whether you like it or not - "

"What about you?" Harry interrupted, belligerent now. "Do you like the idea of me using the link to get in  _your_  head?"

"No, I don't," Tom said shortly. "But I know you can do it regardless, so I have no choice but to accept the fact that there's this connection between us, like it or not. I'm willing to work with you,  _knowing_  you'll be able to use the link. If you know anything about me, you know that's no small thing."

"Maybe, but you don't just want to help me out of the goodness of your heart. There's something else that's motivating you. Tell me what it is."

"Why don't you use the mind link and find out?" Tom sneered.

They stared at each other for several seconds, then Harry said, "Fine. Open your side of the link."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Why not? Are you scared?" Harry said challengingly.

"No. I'm not. I just refuse to do it when you're being so hostile. And don't think I don't know why. You let Voldemort get to you. And now you're paranoid."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to get paranoid when you've had a maniac trying to kill you your whole life, and that maniac is actually  _you_  in the future!"

"I'm not Voldemort!" Tom shouted, losing his temper.

Harry shrugged.

"I haven't done  _anything_  to you, Potter," he said, incensed. "Everything that's happened to you was Voldemort's doing. But you - look what you've done to  _me_ ," he said furiously. "You destroyed a piece of my soul - and from what I gathered from the memories you shared, that was the only Horcrux you personally destroyed -  _my_  Horcrux. I've done nothing to you, but you  _murdered_  a part of my soul."

"You shouldn't have made the Horcrux then!" Harry yelled. How dare Tom try to turn the tables and blame him for something that was Tom's fault in the first place. "It was trying to kill me - and it almost killed Ginny, and Hermione!"

"It gave you exactly what you wanted - the opportunity to be the big  _hero_ ," Tom said snidely. "What does it matter that you killed a piece of my soul - as long as the great Harry Potter gets to play the saviour!"

"I'm not the one who wants glory, Tom," Harry said coldly. "I destroyed the Horcrux in self-defense - and I'm not going to apologise for it."

Tom let out an angry breath. "Whatever," he huffed, turning away.

"Look at me," Harry commanded.

Tom ignored him.

"Look at me!" he repeated. "Look in my eyes and feel what I'm saying - "

Tom's eyes met his challengingly.

"I don't want to fight with you," Harry said. "I really don't. I want to believe you're nothing like Voldemort. I want to believe you're different from the Diary Horcrux. I don't want us to be enemies."

"I don't either!" Tom snapped.

"Just be real with me. Don't try to play me or manipulate me. You don't have to be like that."

Tom stared at him. "I'm being more real with you than I've ever been with  _anyone_ ," he said, his eyes flashing. "It might not be up to your  _standards_ ," he sneered, "but rest assured, I am."

"Open your side of the link," Harry said.

Tom's eyes narrowed as he regarded Harry silently. "I will, if you will," he finally said.

Harry nodded.

They stared at each other, their eyes locked together. And then Harry felt a wave of feeling that wasn't his - he felt frustration and indignation, and then beneath it, a tiny shimmer of hurt, mixed with blame and resentment; he looked at Tom intently, trying to go deeper; then he felt another wave - of fascination, and curiosity; he pushed deeper still - and got a flash of hunger, and lust, mixed with something warm.

It was intensely intimate, reading Tom like this. He wondered what Tom was reading from him.

"Shall we do the exercise?" Tom said after a moment.

"Okay."

"The way you're focusing - in the same way you're trying to feel me - turn it towards yourself," Tom said softly. "Look inside yourself and feel your magical core."

Harry tried.

"Keep looking at me," Tom murmured, his voice hypnotic. "Find your centre ... feel where your magic is coming from ..."

Harry concentrated, and then he felt something - a hum of energy; it was strong in his solar plexus, a steady, thrumming hum, electric and buzzing. The more he focussed, the more he could feel it. It seemed to be radiating through him.

"Focus on it ... feel it ... draw from it," Tom said. "Yes, just like that," he murmured. "Now - Summon the meditation book without your wand."

Harry opened his hand and reached out for it. " _Accio_  meditation book," Harry intoned.

It flew into his hand.

Tom smiled, and Harry felt a wave of satisfaction from him. "You did it," Tom said.

Harry grinned, exhilarated. "That was brilliant!"

"That was you accessing your magical core," Tom said. "And that was only a taste of it, Harry. I could feel it. You're very powerful."

"Are all magical cores like that? I mean, the way it felt - that kind of buzzing, electric feeling?"

"No."

"What does your magical core feel like?"

"It feels very similar to yours," Tom said, his eyes piercing.

"Really?"

"Our wands share the same core; it shouldn't come as a surprise that our magical cores are also similar."

It  _was_  surprising though. Harry had always thought that most of their similarities came about because Voldemort had made it so; he'd chosen Harry - the Half-Blood, instead of the Pureblood - and made him an orphan, just like him. Their wands had shared the same core, Harry had thought, because of their connection, because Voldemort chose him. But if Tom and Harry had similar magical cores, that was different, wasn't it? That meant the connection between them wasn't only circumstantial or the by-product of Voldemort's actions.

Harry felt a flash of something warm from Tom. They were staring at each other still, and Tom's expression was guarded, but the link was still open.

"We're more alike than you think, Harry," Tom said softly.

Harry stared at him, feeling through the link the warmth that Tom was radiating. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe we are."

The warm feeling expanded, and Harry felt a responding warmth inside himself. They gazed at each other silently, their eyes locked together.

Athena hooted suddenly; a moment later, there was a knock on the door. Tom disappeared in a flash.

Harry got to his feet, annoyed by the interruption, and cancelled the Imperturbable Charm and the Muffliato Charm. "Come in."

Kreacher opened the door and shuffled in. "Kreacher has lunch ready, Master - a light lunch today, because Master will be having tea," he said.

"Oh. Okay," Harry said. A thought occurred to him. "Wait. Is it a formal tea, do you think?" He grimaced at the thought.

"Undoubtedly," Kreacher said.

"Am I supposed to get dressed up then?"

Kreacher eyed his clothes distastefully. "Master might want to wear something else, yes."

"All right," Harry said. "I'll be down in a minute."

Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a crack.

Harry turned to the painting. Tom reappeared a second later. "I didn't know it was going to be a formal tea," Harry grumbled to him. "Is it going to be terribly posh, do you think?"

Tom looked amused. "Probably."

"Merlin. I'm glad I got the presents from Twilfitt and Tattings." He sighed. "What does a person wear to a formal tea?"

"Not those Muggle clothes, that's for certain," Tom said. He gave Harry a look. "Why  _do_  you dress like a Muggle?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't like shopping and these are the clothes I had." He sighed again. "I'll see what I've got upstairs. I don't have much - I left most of my stuff behind when I left the Dursleys." He gazed at Tom for a moment then said, "I'm going down for lunch. Thanks for helping me with the wandless magic."

Tom inclined his head. "We can practise some more when you get back from your tea."

"Okay," Harry said. He smiled slightly. "Thanks." He turned to go, then looked back at the painting. "See you later," he said.

Tom's eyes were warm. He nodded.

Harry turned away, smiling, then left and headed down to the kitchen.

 

-x-

 

After lunch Harry went up to his bedroom on the fourth floor. He ignored Voldemort and went straight to the wardrobe, looking in it for something to wear. He pulled out a jacket, a crisp buttoned-down shirt and the nicest pair of trousers he had. Should he wear a tie? Wizarding robes? He turned and looked at Voldemort, who was watching him silently, his red eyes intent. "I'm going to a formal tea," Harry said. "Do I need to wear a tie? Or wizarding robes?"

"Who are you having tea with?" Voldemort asked.

"Andromeda Tonks."

"The blood traiter," Voldemort said dismissively. "Wear your Muggle clothes, what does it matter?"

Harry scowled. Voldemort was such a jerk. "She grew up as a Pureblood. Not that I care about that, but I want to be respectful. If you were having formal tea with a Pureblood what would you wear?"

"What I would wear and what you would wear are two very different things, Potter," Voldemort said disdainfully.

Harry held out the clothes he'd picked. "Just tell me, is this okay?"

"I am sure that will be fine for a blood traitor," Voldemort said, sneering.

"Thanks," Harry said coldly. "You've been a great help."

Voldemort nodded condescendingly. "You are welcome."

Harry glared at him then turned back to the wardrobe. He got the rest of what he needed, then Apparated straight to the bathroom. He took a long shower, and by the time he finished getting dressed and ready, it was a quarter to three. He went up to the third floor bedroom to get Teddy's presents.

Tom was still sitting on the grass in front of the tree.

"Is this all right?" Harry asked him. "Voldemort was no help."

Tom's eyes raked over him slowly.

Harry tried not to flush.

Tom smirked, then said, almost teasingly, "It's acceptable."

"I want this to go well," Harry said quietly. "They're my closest relatives in the wizarding world and I don't know them at all. I want to make a good impression."

Tom's face changed. "I understand," he said, his expression serious now. "Don't worry. You look fine."

Harry felt like Tom really did understand, and that made him feel better. "Thanks," he said. He got out the gifts for Teddy from his rucksack and returned them to their original size, then looked at Tom again. "I don't know why I'm nervous. It's silly. It's just tea, right?"

Tom nodded, his face solemn. He looked pensive.

Harry checked the time. It was ten to three. "I have to go," he said. "I need to get the address from Kreacher. Oh - and Kreacher will be coming in here soon, so be prepared," he warned. "I'm moving to this bedroom and he'll be bringing all my stuff down while I'm out."

"I'll Disillusion myself, don't worry."

Harry nodded. "See you later."

He went downstairs and found Kreacher and got the address and Andromeda's gift from him.

Then he Apparated to Andromeda's house.


	14. Chapter 14

When Andromeda answered the door, she looked frazzled. "Mr Potter," she said, "Come in, please."

Harry could hear Teddy screaming in the other room. "Er - thank you for inviting me, Mrs Tonks," he said, coming into the hall.

"Please, call me Andromeda," she said. "As you can hear, Teddy is having a moment. If you'll follow me, I need to attend to him." Her voice was harried. She beckoned Harry to follow and rushed into the sitting room.

Harry followed her in. Teddy was in a baby chair wailing loudly, his face red. Andromeda hurried over to him and picked him up, draping him across her front and patting his back soothingly. "There, there," she murmured. "Shh, my darling ..."

It was a bit surreal; Andromeda looked so much like Bellatrix. But she was tender with Teddy, and her gentle demeanour made the resemblance seem less distinct. As she rocked him in her arms, the baby's cries began to get quieter.

"Forgive me, Mr Potter," she said, looking over at Harry apologetically. "I see you've got gifts for Teddy - why don't you put them down on the table - " she gestured to a table next to him, "and please, do sit down."

Harry deposited the presents on the table and went to the sofa and sat down, at a loss for what to say.

After a minute, Teddy finally stopped crying. He turned his head to look curiously at Harry.

Harry smiled at him. "Hello, Teddy," he said, giving a little wave.

The baby grinned toothlessly and bounced up and down excitedly; Andromeda smiled and said to him, "Yes, darling, that's your godfather." She looked at Harry and said, "Would you like to hold him, Mr Potter?"

"Please, call me Harry," he said as she placed Teddy in his arms. Once the baby was settled on his lap, Andromeda sat down next to him on the sofa.

She hesitated, then said, "I have to tell you something, Harry. My sister and my nephew are here. There's been ... trouble and they're going to be staying with me for a ... while."

Harry stared at her in surprise. "You mean - Draco and Mrs Malfoy?"

She nodded.

"Are they all right?" he asked. "I ... er ... heard about what happened outside Gringotts. Is Draco okay?"

"He was released from St Mungo's this morning. I understand if you want to call off tea; I know they're probably the last people you want to see - "

"No, it's fine," Harry said quickly. "Honestly. I don't have a problem with them - " He yelped when Teddy grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head down, trying to get his attention.

"Be gentle, Teddy," Andromeda murmured reprovingly, reaching over to run a hand over his fist; the baby relaxed his grip and looked up at Harry brightly.

Harry smiled down at him. This was his godson, he thought, staring at Teddy's little face. The baby's hair was white-blond, like Draco's. Harry gently touched the locks, remembering the picture Lupin showed Fleur and Harry of Teddy with blue hair.

"Teddy took a shine to Draco," Andromeda said, noticing. "He's a Metamorphmagus so he changes his hair colour quite a bit." She glanced at Harry anxiously. "I feel I should explain. Narcissa came to me this morning and asked for my help ... and despite everything, she is my sister - "

"I understand," Harry said. "Family is important, especially now ..."

"Yes," Andromeda said, looking relieved. "Draco needs a place to convalesce and Narcissa can help me look after Teddy. It's been difficult looking after him on my own," she said quietly, a shadow passing over her face.

Harry swallowed, feeling a wave of guilt. If he'd only found the Horcruxes sooner, Tonks and Lupin might still be alive. "I'd like to help," he said. "In any way I can."

She smiled and patted his arm. "Thank you, dear."

"Are Draco and Mrs Malfoy going to be joining us for tea?" Harry asked.

"Oh." Andromeda looked surprised. "No, I thought you wouldn't want that - Draco's in his room right now, in Dora's old room ..." - another shadow passed over her face - "... and Narcissa has gone to Malfoy Manor to collect some of their things."

"Is Draco okay? Can I ... see him?"

She gazed at Harry. "I don't know. He's a bit ... under the weather," she said. She leaned closer and whispered, "He's in bit of a state right now - I don't know if he wants to see anyone."

Now Harry really wanted to see him. "Will you ask him?" He didn't mean to push but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I - yes, all right," she said hesitantly.

"Sorry," Harry said, feeling awkward and wrong-footed. "It's just - I went to school with Draco ..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say exactly.

"I'll go ask him," Andromeda said. She stood. "Will you look after Teddy? I shouldn't be a moment." She left, and Harry could hear her walking down the hall, then he heard her knocking on a door.

Harry gazed down at Teddy, who had nestled against him and was sucking his thumb sleepily, and tried not to eavesdrop when he heard the murmur of voices.

Andromeda returned a couple of minutes later. "He said he'll see you," she said softly. She looked concerned. "Harry," she murmured in a hesitant voice, "whatever your history is with Draco, you should know he's in a very vulnerable state right now - "

"I won't upset him," Harry said quickly. "I just want to make sure he's all right."

She nodded. "Give him a few minutes. Why don't we open the presents you brought for Teddy?" She went and gathered up the packages and brought them over.

"One of them is for you," Harry said. "The one with the pink ribbon."

"Oh!" She sat down next to Harry, putting the other packages down on the sofa between them. "How kind of you," she said as she began to unwrap it. "My goodness!" she exclaimed when she saw what it was. "These are my favourite! How did you know?"

"Kreacher told me," Harry said.

"How thoughtful of you! Thank you, Harry," she said.

Harry smiled at her, pleased that she seemed to like it. "I hope what I got Teddy is okay. I wasn't sure - er ..."

"Let's open them, shall we?" she said, smiling at him warmly.

Harry felt awkward as she unwrapped the blanket and the onesie but to his relief, Andromeda seemed to like them.

When she unwrapped the magical mobile and took it out of the box Teddy perked up and whooped, reaching for it. The animals were animated, and they sprang to life suddenly; Teddy's eyes got wide and he stared at them in wonder. "Oh, how wonderful! It's perfect," Andromeda said. "Thank you."

He smiled shyly. "You're welcome," he said.

"Come, we'll set it up over his chair for now then you can go talk to Draco," she said, getting to her feet.

Harry got up from the sofa carefully, holding Teddy securely in his arms, and followed her over to the baby chair.

Andromeda cast a wordless spell and a cord dropped from the ceiling; she attached the mobile to it, then reached for Teddy. He started fussing when Harry relinquished him, but settled once he was in his chair, his attention quickly captured by the animated mobile. Andromeda stood back, watching for a moment, a smile on her face, then she turned to Harry. "You go ahead now and see Draco," she said. "It's down the hall, second door on the right."

He thanked her and made his way down the hall. When he got to the second door on the right, he knocked.

Draco's voice called out, "Enter," and Harry opened the door and looked inside. Draco was sitting on the bed, pretending to read a book. His posture was tense and defensive. He looked up at Harry and sneered, "Come to gloat, Potter?"

"No," Harry said softly.

"Well, come in," Draco snapped. "Don't just stand there."

Harry went into the room, shutting the door behind him. Up close, Harry could see that Draco looked terrible; he was very pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. "How are you?" Harry asked, tentatively.

"Oh I'm marvellous, just marvellous," Draco said cuttingly. He moved his legs so Harry could sit down.

Harry sat down gingerly at the end of the bed and looked at him.

"What's the matter, Potter? Afraid to get near the dirty Death Eater? Afraid you'll be contaminated?"

"Calm down, Draco," Harry said, putting his hands up. "I'm not here to rub it in - or ... whatever you're thinking. I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Saint Potter - of course!" he sneered.

Harry sighed. It was like trying to approach a wild animal that had been cornered. "What happened yesterday? Who attacked you?"

"What does it matter?" Draco said, his face shuttering. "What do you care, Potter? I got cursed. I got what I deserved, didn't I? That's what you think, isn't it?"

"No."

Draco stared at him. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, then he looked away.

"Anything you've done, you've already paid for," Harry said quietly.

Draco looked back at him, sharply, but didn't say anything.

"Who cursed you?"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said.

"It  _does_  matter," Harry said. "It shouldn't have happened."

"I'm a Death Eater, Potter. People don't take very kindly to that."

"You're not a Death Eater anymore."

Draco angrily ripped up his sleeve and bared his arm, showing his Dark Mark. "I'll always be a Death Eater," he hissed.

"You were never a real one," Harry said. "You weren't like the others."

"What do you know, Potter! You know nothing about what I've done!"

"I know more than you think, Draco."

Draco huffed out a breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" he said belligerently.

Harry stared at him. "It's your name."

"I know it's my name. But it's not what you call me. You've always called me Malfoy."

Harry shrugged. "I want to call you Draco now."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because," Harry said, deciding to be direct, "I'm tired of fighting with you. I'm tired of the animosity between us."

Draco stared at him, then said in a low voice, "What are you playing at, Potter?"

"I'm not playing at anything. We're not at school anymore. The war is over. I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Draco looked nonplussed.

"I'm going to give you your wand back," Harry said. "Okay? I don't have it with me, but I'll bring it next time I come over here."

Draco's eyes flashed. "I want it now," he said quickly, hungrily. 

"I can't get it now - Andromeda invited me for tea and I'm already keeping her waiting. If you want, I'll bring it to you tomorrow."

Draco gave a short nod. "Fine," he bit out.

"Are you having tea with us?"

"No."

Silence stretched out between them for a long moment as they stared at each other.

"I should get back out there, I don't want to keep Andromeda waiting," Harry finally said, getting to his feet. "I just wanted to see if you're okay." He gave Draco a searching look.

Draco said nothing. He just stared at Harry, frowning.

Harry went to the door and opened it, then turned back to look at him. "Think about what I said, Draco. The war is over and we're not on different sides anymore. See you later."

He went out into the hall, closing the door behind him, then returned to the sitting room.

Andromeda looked at him anxiously. "Everything all right?" she said.

Harry nodded.

She smiled. "Shall we have tea then?"

They had tea in the dining room. It was a slightly more relaxed affair than Harry had been expecting, which he was glad for, though all the formalities were observed: tea was served in delicate china teacups, and there were cucumber and cress finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, Battenberg cakes and an assortment of pastries. It was a lavish spread. When they first sat down, Harry felt a bit awkward, but Andromeda was an exemplary hostess. She kept the conversation flowing, avoiding uncomfortable topics, and soon had Harry feeling at ease. Teddy had been put down for a nap so it was just the two of them.

When it was over, all in all, Harry felt it had been a successful visit.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

When he got back to Grimmauld Place, he sent a message to Hermione on the charmed Galleon, asking if she and Ron wanted to come over. He wanted to spend time with them before they left for Australia. They came over a short while later. He told them about the tea with Andromeda, and about Draco and Narcissa. Ron was stubbornly unmoved about Draco's plight, but Hermione was more sympathetic about it, which Harry was grateful for. They didn't really know what Draco went through with Voldemort, because Harry had kept it to himself, but Hermione seemed understanding anyway.

They hung out in the drawing room, talking, and just relaxing. Harry and Ron played a couple of games of wizarding chess while Hermione pored over a book about memory charms. It was like old times, before they went on the run. It was the first time really since they were at Hogwarts that they'd had the opportunity to spend time together at ease and unhunted.

After they left, Harry finally made his way up to the third floor bedroom. He had avoided going up until now because he was trying to get some distance from Tom. He needed to keep a level head about the Slytherin, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Something was happening between him and Tom; it felt like they were getting closer - especially after they'd opened the mind link and shared that moment which Kreacher interrupted. Harry was feeling confused. He was torn - he knew that Tom was an expert at manipulation, so it only stood to reason that Tom was putting on an act and manipulating him, yet Harry couldn't help but feel that Tom was being real with him. Voldemort had said that Tom was just playing nice because Harry had the power to resurrect him, but Harry didn't believe that. Maybe he was being nicer than he would've otherwise been if Harry didn't have that power, but Harry had a strong feeling - a gut feeling - that a lot of what he was getting from Tom was genuine.

The similarities between them  _were_  compelling. And Harry believed that it was having an effect on Tom. Tom had never been truly close to anyone before. He'd never had a real friend, never experienced that kind of honest connection or rapport with another person. He might have had what he called a dalliance with Abraxas Malfoy, but he said he'd Obliviated him - that didn't speak of trust or intimacy ... plus he'd said dalliance, not relationship. Harry knew that Tom hadn't had any friends at the orphanage, and from what he also knew, the 'friends' Tom had at Hogwarts were either followers or peers that he'd cultivated a facade of friendship with - none of it had been real. But then Tom woke in the portrait to find that there was someone with whom he shared a great deal in common, someone he shared a mind link with, who'd had a similar childhood, who'd experienced the same kind of loneliness, who'd been bullied in the same way, who grew up in the Muggle world and hadn't known he was a wizard either until he was invited to Hogwarts. There was a fascination between them that was mutual. Harry had no doubt about that. He'd felt it through the link. He'd felt Tom's fascination with him ... and not only that, he'd also felt his lust - Tom was attracted to him that way too; Harry wasn't alone in that.

And then there was the warmth he'd felt from Tom. Harry wanted to feel more of it. This was dangerous ground he was treading on. He liked spending time with Tom. He liked Tom, period. Too much. He'd have to be careful. He wanted to explore whatever it was that was between them but he couldn't let it go too far.

He stopped on the third floor landing and took a calming breath, then focused on clearing his mind. These were not thoughts he wanted to Tom to read. After strengthening his Occlumency shields, he went into the bedroom.

Tom wasn't there.

Harry went over to the wardrobe and hung up his jacket. Kreacher had moved his things down; he grabbed a t-shirt and some Muggle pyjama bottoms and got changed. When he turned around, Tom was in the painting. He was staring at Harry intently. Harry flushed. Had Tom watched him get changed? Harry had lived in a boys' dormitory for so long, he had lost his modesty for the most part ... but it was different getting undressed in front of Tom.

He swallowed and tried to act unaffected. "Hi," he said.

Tom's expression was hard to read. "Hello."

Harry turned and went to Athena's cage, reaching in to stroke her. "Hi, Athena." The owl hooted and nibbled on his fingers. "Do you want to go outside and fly around for a bit?" he asked her. She hooted again. He went over to the window and opened it, and she flew out of the cage and over to the sill. After a moment, she flew off. He shut the window, then went over to the bed and flopped down on it.

"How was tea?" Tom asked.

Harry sat up and looked at him. "It went well. I think. Draco was there."

"What?" Tom looked startled. "He's not in Azkaban?"

"No. I testified at his and Narcissa's trials and they were pardoned."

Tom's lips tightened.

"What?" Harry said.

Tom's face changed, becoming impassive. "Nothing."

Harry stared at him. "What?" he said again, more pointedly. "You look weird. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Look, I'm going over there again tomorrow to give Draco his wand back so if there's something I should know, I want you to tell me."

"I think you should stay away from him."

"Why?"

"He's a Death Eater," Tom said, but that didn't seem like what it was.

"He wasn't a real one," Harry said. "He was forced into it."

Tom shrugged. "Just be careful around him. I don't trust him."

"I can handle Draco."

"I'll bet you can," Tom muttered, his lips tightening.

Harry stared at him. "What?"

"Forget it."

Harry frowned. What was Tom's problem?

"Why was he there in the first place?" Tom asked. "I thought Narcissa disowned Andromeda."

"He and Narcissa are going to be staying there. Draco was attacked yesterday and Narcissa asked Andromeda for help."

"He was attacked," Tom repeated.

"Yeah. I don't know much about what happened - he wouldn't tell me - but Hermione said he and Narcissa were outside Gringotts and a mob of angry wizards attacked them. Draco got cursed. He was in St Mungo's and got out this morning. Now he's at Andromeda's."

"So he and Narcissa are going to be staying at the house where your godson lives."

"Yeah. Narcissa is going to help with Teddy. Andromeda's had a hard time on her own."

"That's convenient."

"What do you mean, convenient?"

"Narcissa suddenly makes amends with her sister and installs herself and her son at her sister's house, and now has positioned herself to help take care of  _your_  godson - you don't see the machinations at work here?"

"Teddy is her nephew ... or great-nephew. They're family. It has nothing to do with me."

"Don't be so sure of that."

"I think you're being overly cynical."

"They're Slytherins. Nothing is that simple when you're dealing with Slytherins."

"Yeah," Harry said coolly. "I'm well aware of that."

"Just be careful with them," Tom said.

"What are you so worried about?"

"I don't trust them."

"You don't trust anyone," Harry said. "I think you're being paranoid." He paused. "Unless there's something you're not telling me."

Tom's face shuttered. "There isn't."

Harry stared at him, then turned away, frustrated.

"You're too good," Tom said softly after a moment. "I don't want them taking advantage of you."

"I don't think they _are_ taking advantage of me."

"We'll see," Tom said darkly.

"Tom."

"Did you talk to them about your familial connection?"

"No. Look, Narcissa wasn't even there - she was at Malfoy Manor getting some of their things. I only saw Draco for a couple of minutes. It was really just me and Andromeda - and Teddy at the beginning."

"You were gone for a long time."

"Not really. I got home hours ago. Hermione and Ron came over. They're going to Australia soon and I wanted to spend time with them before they go."

Tom said nothing to that. His face was stony.

Harry didn't like the tension between them. He changed the subject. "Kreacher didn't see you, did he?"

"No."

"Would he recognise you if he did? Voldemort took him to the cave and made him help hide the Locket Horcrux - but I guess he must have looked very different at that point."

"Yes, Voldemort had drastically transformed his appearance by then - he didn't look anything like me," Tom said. "I don't know if the elf would recognise me from another time - I might have met him at some point when I looked like myself, but I wouldn't have noticed a house-elf."

"Wait. I thought Voldemort's appearance changed because of making the Horcruxes and doing the magic he did ... are you saying he transformed himself to look like that on purpose?"

"You're right that it was partly from the magic he did, but the bulk of the transformation was deliberate," Tom said, looking disgusted.

"Why?"

"He wanted to distinguish himself from other wizards. He wanted to make himself as snake-like as possible to prove he was different from everyone, to prove his superiority over all other wizards."

"I saw a Pensieve memory of you at Hepzibah Smith's," Harry said carefully, "when she showed you the cup and the locket. You still looked like you - it wouldn't have been that far in your future. But then Dumbledore showed me his memory of you ten years later - when you went back to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job - and the transformation was ... marked."

Tom's eyes had widened at the mention of Hepzibah Smith and he stared at Harry in surprise. "I would like to see those memories," he said.

"Haven't you already seen them from Voldemort's memories?"

"I have, to some extent," he said. "But I want to see them as you saw them. It's different seeing things from your perspective."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "When you made the portrait, you had already started working at Borgin and Burkes, hadn't you?"

"Yes."

"And you already knew Hepzibah Smith?"

"Yes, I knew her - but I didn't kill her, if that's what you're wondering. And as far as  _my_  memories go, I wasn't planning to either. That happened in the future, when I was nineteen."

"All right," Harry said after a moment. "I'll show you the memories - if you show me a memory in return."

Tom inclined his head. "Which memory would you like to see?"

"I want to see your memory of when you killed Myrtle."

Tom stared at him. "Why do you want to see that?"

"I want to know what you were thinking and feeling when you did it."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "If you're hoping for some great show of regret, you're going to be disappointed," he said waspishly.

"I'm not expecting anything. I just want to know what happened."

"Fine," Tom said. He looked angry.

"I'll go first." Harry took out his wand and drew out the memory of the entire meeting with Dumbledore. Then he cast the spell.

The memory began:

Dumbledore was asking, "Have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?"

"Ah ... well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it at the end of Potions, sir, but, er, he wouldn't give it to me."

"I see," Dumbledore said after a while. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"

"Well," Harry said. "Well ... the day Ron swallowed love potion by mistake I took him to Professor Slughorn. I thought maybe if I got Professor Slughorn in a good enough mood - "

"And did that work?"

"Well, no, sir, because Ron got poisoned - "

" - which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend was in danger. Once it became clear that Mr Weasley was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."

"Sir, it isn't that I wasn't bothered or anything, I've just had - other things ..." He'd been preoccupied with following around Draco Malfoy; it had become an obsession, and trying to figure out what the Slytherin was up to had rapidly become his top priority.

"Other things on your mind. I see."

Harry felt ashamed. Dumbledore's cold disappointment was unbearable. "Professor Dumbledore," he stammered, "I'm really sorry. I should have done more ... I should have realised you wouldn't have asked me to do it if it wasn't really important."

"Thank you for saying that, Harry. May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."

"I'll do it, sir, I'll get it from him."

"Then we shall say no more about it just now, but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"

"Yes, sir. Voldemort killed his father and his grandparents and made it look like his uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and he asked ... he asked Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes."

"Very good. Now, you will remember, I hope that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thus far, I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?"

Harry nodded.

"But now, Harry, now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you. I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely. I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two. This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.

He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue after they left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Special Award for Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" Harry said, dumbfounded.

"At Borgin and Burkes," Dumbledore said calmly. "I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time - I was one of the few in whom the then Headmaster confided - but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."

"He wanted to stay here? Why?"

"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet. Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home."

Harry stared at him, uncomfortably. He felt the exact same way about Hogwarts.

"Secondly," Dumbledore continued, "the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap. And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on the best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for one instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."

"But he didn't get the job, sir?'

"No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."

"How did you feel about that, sir?"

"Deeply uneasy. I had advised Armando against the appointment - I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty - but I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."

"Which job did he want, sir?" Harry asked, though he felt he already knew. "What subject did he want to teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years." He continued, "So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specialises, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"I'll bet he was," Harry muttered, unable to help himself. He was thinking about the dream he'd had where Tom had kissed him in the potions lab - Harry had felt that persuasion firsthand in the dream; he'd been seduced by it, to his great shame.

"Well, quite," Dumbledore said. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith." Dumbledore tipped the memory into the Pensieve. "After you, Harry."

They entered the memory.

Hepzibah Smith was looking into a jewelled mirror and putting rouge on her cheeks as the house-elf knelt at her feet, lacing up her tight satin slippers. "Hurry up, Hokey! He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

She continued fussing, until the doorbell rang. Hokey went to answer it. Harry had seen Pensieve memories of the younger Tom Riddle - at age eleven and sixteen - but now, he looked more handsome than ever. He came into the room, and it was clear he'd been there many times before. He took her fat little hand and bowed over it, pressing his lips to it.

"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, holding out a bouquet of roses that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have! You do spoil this old lady, Tom ... sit down, sit down ... where's Hokey ... ah ..."

Hokey came in with a tray of cakes and set it down at Hepzibah's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom," Hepizibah said. "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times ..."

Tom smiled perfunctorily and Hepzibah beamed.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked coquettishly.

"Mr Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour," Tom said. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair - "

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" she said, pouting.

"I am ordered here because of them," Tom said quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr Burke wishes me to enquire - "

"Oh, Mr Burke, phooey!" Hebzibah said dismissively. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it ..."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," Tom said and Hepzibah giggled girlishly.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me ... Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr Riddle our  _finest_  treasure ... in fact, bring both, while you're at it ..."

"Here, madam," Hokey squeaked. The house-elf brought two leather boxes over to her mistress.

"Now," Hepzibah said, after placing the boxes on her lap and preparing to open the topmost one. "I think you'll like this, Tom ... oh, if my family only knew I was showing you ... they can't wait to get their hands on this!" She opened the lid, revealing a small golden cup with two handles. "I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!"

Tom's eyes gleamed as he reached into the box with long fingers and picked it up by one handle. Harry thought he saw a flash of red in his eyes for a moment. Tom stared at the cup, a greedy expression on his face. Hepzibah stared at Tom, her expression just as greedy. "A badger," Tom murmured, examining the engraving on it. "Then this was ...?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" She leaned forward and actually pinched his cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess, too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe here ..." She took the cup back and put it back in its box.

Tom's face darkened for a moment when she took it away, but she didn't notice.

"Now then, where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are - take that away, Hokey - " The house-elf took the box from her and Hepzibah looked at the other, flatter box in her lap. "I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see ... of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back from me when I'm gone ..." She opened the box. It was a heavy golden locket laying atop smooth crimson velvet.

Tom reached out and picked it up, without invitation, then held it to the light to examine it. "Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, noting the ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" Hepzibah said delightedly. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value - "

Tom's eyes flashed scarlet and his knuckles whitened on the locket's chain.

" - I daresay Burke paid her a pittance, but there you are ... pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers are attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe ..." She reached to take it back.

Tom held on for a moment then let it go.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!" She looked at him fully and her smile faltered. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," Tom said. "Yes, I'm very well ..."

"I thought - but a trick of the light, I suppose - " She looked unsettled; she had seen the red gleam in his eyes. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again ... the usual enchantments ..."

"Time to leave, Harry," Dumbledore said, grasping Harry above the elbow. They rose up through the oblivion and back to Dumbledore's office.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," Dumbledore said, sitting down and gesturing for Harry to do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress' evening cocoa by accident."

"No way!" Harry said angrily.

"I see we are of one mind. Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, someone else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death - "

"Hokey confessed?"

"She remembered putting something in her mistress' cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison. It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused - "

"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!"

"Yes, that is my conclusion, too. And, just as with Morfin. the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey - "

" - because she was a house-elf."

"Precisely. She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink and nobody at the Ministry bothered to enquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over - but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and locket. By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realised that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he'd gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time."

Dumbledore continued, "Now, if you don't mind, Harry, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed murder; whether it was his first time since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at the orphanage, just as he had stolen his uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."

"But," Harry said, frowning, "it seems mad ... risking everything, throwing away his job, just for those ... "

"Mad to you, perhaps, but not to Voldemort. I hope you will understand in due course exactly what those objects meant to him, Harry, but you must admit it's not difficult to imagine he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully his."

"The locket, maybe, but why take the cup as well?"

"It had belonged to another of the Hogwart's founders. I think he still felt a great pull towards the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwart's history. There were other reasons, I think ... I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you, in due course." He paused, then said, "And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years separate Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing ..." Dumbledore stood and returned to the Pensieve.

Harry got up and joined him. "Whose memory is it?" he asked as Dumbledore poured the memory into it.

"Mine."

They dove into the memory.

The younger Dumbledore was in his office; he seemed to be waiting for someone. There was a knock on the door. "Enter," he said.

Harry gasped at the sight of Voldemort as he entered the room. Gone was the handsome face of Tom Riddle; now his features were oddly distorted, waxy and blurred, and the whites of his eyes looked permanently bloody.

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore said. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," Voldemort said, sitting in the same seat that Harry had just vacated before diving into the memory. "I heard that you had become Headmaster." His voice was colder and higher than it had been. "A worthy choice."

Dumbledore smiled. "I am glad you approve," he said. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome. I have come a long way."

Dumbledore got up and poured out two goblets of wine, handing one to Voldemort, then returned to his seat behind his desk. "So, Tom ... to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Voldemort sipped his wine. "They do not call me Tom any more. These days, I am known as - "

"I know what you are known as," Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile. "But to me, I am afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

Voldemort's face was a mask. "I am surprised you have remained here so long," he said. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well, to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching, too."

"I see it still. I merely wondered why you - who is so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who has twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister - "

"Three times at the last count, actually. But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head and sipped his wine. After a long silence, he spoke. "I have returned, later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected ... but I have returned nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much, since leaving us," Dumbledore said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

"Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?"

"Certainly. I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed - "

"Of some kinds of magic. Of some. Of others, you remain ... forgive me ... woefully ignorant."

Voldemort smiled horribly. "The old argument. But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places."

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" Voldemort said easily. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised a brow. "And what will become of those who you command? What will happen to those who call themselves - or so rumour has it - the Death Eaters?"

Voldemort looked surprised that Dumbledore knew the name; his eyes flashed red and his slit-like nostrils flared. "My friends will carry on without me, I am sure," he said after a moment.

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends. I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken."

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh, no, merely friendly with the local barmen. Now, Tom ... let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

"A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request, for once?"

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job - "

"Of course I don't. And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have a purpose."

Voldemort rose, looking less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features distorted with rage. "This is your final word?"

Dumbledore stood up. "It is."

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," Dumbledore said sadly. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom ... I wish I could ..."

For a second, Voldemort's hand twitched towards his pocket and his wand, then he turned away and walked out without a word, closing the door behind him.

Harry was led out of the memory and back to Dumbledore's office.

"Why?" he asked Dumbledore immediately. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"

"I have ideas, but no more than that."

"What ideas, sir?"

"I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved the memory from Professor Slughorn. When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear ... to both of us." He went to the door and held it open, indicating that their meeting was at an end.

"Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn't say ..."

"Oh he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," Dumbledore said. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

And with that, the memory ended.

After a moment, Harry looked over at the painting.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Tom had his arms crossed and he looked upset. But Harry was upset too. Seeing the memories - particularly the first one - had shaken him and filled him with doubt. The Tom that visited Hepzibah Smith wasn't so far removed from the Tom in front of him. Could he have really changed that much? Wasn't it more likely that the Tom he had been getting to know was just a well-constructed facade?

Tom stared at him, his expression thunderous. "I know  _exactly_  what you're thinking," he said furiously.

"What am I thinking?"

"That that's who I really am. That I'm Voldemort. That I'm just pretending to be something else."

Harry shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

"I have been my true self with you," Tom said angrily, "you have no idea - "

"So ... you've just changed, like that - after being one way all your life, you've had a radical transformation; you charmed and manipulated and played everyone around you, but now you're different, and you're being real with me. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Tom hissed.

"How do you expect me to believe that?"

Tom let out a harsh breath and turned away. He looked angry and frustrated. After a long silence, he spoke. "Imagine waking up one day and being confronted with a future self like Voldemort," he said quietly. "Imagine discovering that all the choices you made had been the wrong ones. Do you think I'm unaffected? I spent a fortnight alone in that vault with him, forced to see what I'd become, forced to bear the brunt of his hatred and insanity and his sadistic pleasure at my distress. It was _torture_. And then you came along and further elucidated everything, showing me even more clearly the consequences of the path I'd been on. I've only ever had contempt for people, but then there's you, and I actually respect you so I  _am_  being real with you, but you keep doubting me. On top of that, I have Voldemort in my head whenever he can get through, taunting me, flooding my mind with images and graphically detailed accounts of the horrible things he's done - things you don't know about, that are so horrifying I can't even talk about it. Imagine all that and then you'll know how I feel."

Harry stared at him.

"And then you show me these memories and I have to endure your and Dumbledore's opinions about me, rubbing salt in the wound. I don't like what I am either, did that ever occur to you? But I can't undo the past - I can't go back and make the different choices I want to make, knowing what I know now. I wish I could, but I can't. I'm stuck like this - stuck with Voldemort, stuck in the portrait realm for eternity." A look of despair flickered across his face.

Harry could feel it through the link: despair and desolation, mixed with regret and anger. It came through in a great wave, surging through the link in a sudden, overwhelming flood. It was very affecting and Harry couldn't help but be moved by it. "Tom," he said softly. He felt a rush of compassion for him.

"Do you think I don't wonder what I might have been like if I hadn't grown up in that orphanage, surrounded by that filthy pack of Muggles? But that was what I had. I had no choice, no other options. So what chance did I have to be anything other than what it made me? I look at you and see all these similarities between us, and I can't help but wonder if maybe I would have turned out more like you if I'd had what you had - you had loving parents who were with you for your first year of life. But I didn't - my mother died giving birth to me and my father was a disgusting piece of filth who abandoned us. You had love, you were wanted, you were adored. All I ever had was the orphanage and those filthy Muggles who tormented and attacked me at every turn."

Harry hadn't thought about it like that before. It was a revelation. "I get it," he breathed. "I do."

Tom looked so angry and miserable, it tore at Harry's heart. He could only feel sympathy for him now.

"Do you?" Tom said. "Do you get what it's been like for me? To have had the life that I did, and be shaped by it to become the person I was, and then to wake up suddenly in the portrait with Voldemort and see where it further led and what I became? I don't want to be like that," he said vehemently. "I'm not Voldemort. I don't want to be anything like him. Everything has changed, and I'm not the person I used to be. I don't want to be that person. Do you understand?"

"I do," Harry said. "I understand." He stared at Tom. It was a tragedy. Tom was beautiful and powerful and dynamic, and he had so many gifts and so much potential - but he'd never had a chance; how could anyone blame him for turning out as he did? He'd had no love, no care, no help. And when Dumbledore came along, instead of understanding Tom's situation and helping him, he judged him and callously wrote him off, doing nothing to change things. It was terrible. Heartbreaking.

Tom was staring at him. "Yes," he said softly. "I think you do understand." He gazed at Harry intently. "Come here."

Without thinking, Harry got up and walked up to the painting so he was standing in front of it.

"You do understand, don't you," he said, looking into Harry's eyes. "I can feel it through the link."

And then Harry could feel Tom through the link. It came through in a wave: a feeling of warmth and something soft; understanding and accord; affinity and connection. Harry took a step closer, wanting to feel more of it.

"You're the only good thing about any of this," Tom said softly, his eyes fixed on Harry's. He was mesmerising. "Because even when you've doubted me, there's still a part of you that believes in me, that sees something better in me than what I've been."

They stared at each other, the link open, the feeling flowing between them. The warmth expanded, but now there was longing too. Harry had never felt this intimately connected to another person before, and he knew Tom was feeling the same way. It was intense, enthralling.

There was a tapping on the window.

"Athena wants to come in," Tom said softly, not taking his eyes off Harry.

Harry forced himself to turn and go to the window and open it. Athena came in and flew to her cage. He shut the window then went back to where he'd been standing. He sat down on the floor, and Tom sat down too.

"Do you want me to show you my memory now?" Tom asked quietly.

"Not tonight," Harry said. He didn't want to spoil the feeling between them and have the mood get dark again. "Another time."

"Shall we continue the meditation instruction then?" Tom asked after a moment. His expression was softer than it had ever been before.

"Yeah ... okay," Harry said.

"This time we'll go deeper into your magical core, and then we can practise a few spells wandlessly."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

Tom guided him through the meditation, and then had Harry try wandlessly Summoning various things around the bedroom. Then he had Harry practise some other spells - Nox, Lumos, Alohomora, Wingardium Leviosa, and Engorgio and Reducio.  When Harry got tired and started losing focus, Tom said they'd done enough practising for the night, and he told Harry to get in bed. Then he guided Harry through another meditation, the same one from the night before, and Harry fell asleep in the middle of it, as he'd done the previous night.

He dreamed about Tom:

 _Harry was in the third floor bedroom, looking at Tom in the painting ... then something shifted, and the next thing Harry knew_  , _Tom was out of the painting, standing in front of him._

_They stared at each other._

_Tom's expression was soft. He looked at Harry appealingly, as if he were waiting for something._

_"How did you get out of the painting?" Harry asked him._

_"I didn't. You're dreaming," Tom murmured._

_"Oh," Harry said. He stared at Tom. "I've been dreaming about you a lot lately ..."_

_"Have you?" Tom murmured, taking a step closer._

_"Yeah," Harry breathed, captivated by the look in Tom's eyes. Unable to resist, he closed the distance between them and kissed him._

_Tom kissed him back hungrily, his hand going around the back of Harry's neck, pulling him closer._

_After a few minutes, Harry pushed Tom towards the bed. "Lie down," he whispered. Since this was a dream, he didn't have to hold back; he could do whatever he wanted._

_Tom frowned and hesitated for a moment. Then he obeyed, getting onto the bed and stretching out. Harry quickly followed, climbing astride him and straddling him, then sitting up, so he could look at Tom's face._

_Tom gazed up at him silently. There was something vulnerable in his expression._

_Harry leaned down and kissed him again, and Tom's arms went around him. They kissed softly, languorously. When the kiss deepened, Tom's hands slipped up under Harry's t-shirt and began sliding up his back. Harry melted against him, and Tom's hands began to caress him, in such a tender way it made Harry's heart swell in his chest._ _He sat up for a moment, wanting to look at Tom again - he_ _was so handsome, so captivating, so beautiful. "_ _You're amazing," Harry whispered. Then he kissed him again._

_Tom was very responsive; he held Harry close, stroking his back, kissing him deeply, as if he couldn't get enough._

_It was blissful, rapturous._

_Eventually Tom broke the kiss and whispered in Harry's ear, "Lay down with me."_

_Harry got down next to him, stretching his body out until he was on his side facing him. Tom turned towards him and pulled Harry closer, wrapping his arms around him. They kissed again. It felt incredible, being close like this, their bodies tangled together, Tom's warmth surrounding him. He wanted to stay like this forever._

_There was a sharp knocking sound from far away._

_Tom's arms tightened around him. Then he whispered, "I have to go." He kissed Harry again and then vanished._

The knocking came again and Harry abruptly woke up. He reached for his glasses and put them on.

"Master?" The door opened and Kreacher came in. He saw that Harry was awake and nodded. "Breakfast is ready, Master."

"All right," Harry said after a moment. "I'll be down in a minute."

The house-elf bowed and disappeared with a crack.

Harry sat up and looked over at the painting but it was vacant. He sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face. This was becoming a habit, dreaming about Tom.

 

-x-

 

Breakfast went the same way it had the previous two days. He ate, barely noticing what he was putting in his mouth, and thought about Tom. These dreams were becoming a problem. He needed to get control of himself. He'd only got the portrait four days ago and look at what was happening. He was becoming seriously infatuated with Tom.

It was impossible. Ridiculous. Foolish. He couldn't trust Tom. He didn't even know if Tom was real; it could very well be an act. Maybe this was exactly what Tom intended - to make Harry fall for him. Merlin, Harry was in trouble. If it was an act, it was a very convincing one. The feelings that came through the link felt genuine. But what if Tom knew how to manipulate the link and project what he wanted? Voldemort had been able to send him the false vision of Sirius; maybe Tom was using the link to send him false emotions.

Or ... was Harry just being paranoid? What if it _wasn't_ an act? If it wasn't, he was in even more trouble. The dream had been incredibly romantic - he'd felt so connected to Tom, so infatuated with him. It was alarming. It was too much; he'd let himself get too close. He needed to put some distance between them.

Kreacher came in suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. He handed Harry an envelope. "Miss Andromeda's owl delivered this, Master. It's upstairs waiting for a reply."

Harry opened it, glad for the distraction.

_Potter,_

_You said you would bring me my wand today. What time are you coming?_

_Draco Malfoy_

Harry couldn't help but smile. He could practically hear the words in Draco's imperious voice. He Summoned a piece of parchment and an envelope and a quill - wandlessly - and began to write a reply.

_Draco,_

_I'll be there at 10 o'clock. See you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Folding the parchment, he tucked it inside the envelope then wrote Draco's name on the front. After giving it to Kreacher, who bowed and disappeared with a crack, Harry checked the time. It was 8:30; he needed to take a shower, and then he would go up to his old bedroom and retrieve the wand from its hiding place. He'd see Voldemort while he was up there too, which would get his required daily visit out of the way.

He went upstairs to the third floor bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe to pick out his clothes for the day. He wanted to look nice, since he would probably be seeing Andromeda and Narcissa too, so he selected a buttoned-down shirt and a pair of jeans. After grabbing the other things he needed, he turned around.

Tom was in the painting, staring at him. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked. His face was a mask.

"Yeah. I'm going to Andromeda's house so I can give Draco his wand back."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

Harry didn't want to get into it with him. "I have to take a shower. I'll see you later," he said, and he quickly made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him. He went down to the bathroom and jumped in the shower, then he shaved. After getting dressed, he went upstairs to his old bedroom on the fourth floor.

The wand was in a box that he'd hidden under a loose floorboard. He went to it and lifted the floorboard.

"What are you doing?"

He retrieved the box then stood up and turned to look at Voldemort. "None of your business. What do you care, anyway?"

Voldemort sneered. "I am bored, Potter. What is that you have there?"

Harry opened the box and took out the wand. "This is Draco's," he said. "I'm going to return it to him."

Voldemort stared at it for a moment then said, "They will not let him have a wand in Azkaban."

"He's not in Azkaban," Harry said. "He and Narcissa were pardoned."

Voldemort stared at him. "They were pardoned," he repeated.

"Yeah. I testified on their behalf at their trials."

"I see."

"All the other Death Eaters are in Azkaban though," Harry said coldly.

"But you spared Narcissa and Draco. Why?"

"Because Narcissa lied to you and told you I was dead ... and Draco was never a willing Death Eater. You forced him into it."

Voldemort laughed. "So you swept in and saved them from Azkaban. I am sure they are very grateful," he said slyly.

Harry didn't like the look in his eyes. "What?" he said, his voice sharp.

"Do you want to know why Narcissa lied to me?"

"I already know. She wanted to find Draco and - "

"That is not the only reason," Voldemort interrupted.

Harry stared at him. "What's the other reason?"

Voldemort smiled archly. "She wanted to spare your life for her son's sake."

"What?"

"No doubt she was thinking if you survived and managed to defeat me, she could make an opportune match for her son with the hero, Harry Potter."

"What are you talking about?"

"The boy, Draco, was and no doubt still is painfully besotted with you." He laughed cruelly. "It was most amusing to me, I have to say. He was a surprisingly good Occlumens - but a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse opened his mind and I saw what he was so desperately trying to hide."

Harry felt a surge of anger go through him. "You're disgusting," he spat.

"And Narcissa knew it too," Voldemort continued. "She was not as good at Occlumency as her son. She knew exactly how he felt about you." He laughed. "And how conflicted she was about it! It was delicious."

Harry stared at him, shocked.

"So you are going to Malfoy Manor to give him back his wand. How sweet," Voldemort said mockingly.

"They're not at Malfoy Manor," Harry said coldly. "They're staying at Andromeda's house."

"Oh! How did that come about? Narcissa is playing nice with her blood traitor sister now, eh?"

"Draco was attacked - " he started to say. "No, it's none of your business."

"He was attacked, was he? And now you are off to see him - precious Potter, going to see his Death Eater boyfriend."

"Shut up! He's not my boyfriend."

"But you care for him, don't you?" the Dark Lord said slyly, his eyes glittering. "I could see it when you showed me your memory. You saved him from the Fiendfyre because you cared for him and could not bear for him to die. Do not bother trying to hide it. Lord Voldemort knows. Lord Voldemort sees everything."

"Lord Voldemort can shut up," Harry said furiously. "I defeated you - with this wand," he spat, pointing Draco's wand at him. "You're nothing now. So shut up and mind your own business."

"But you  _are_  my business, Potter. You are my Heir, and I must guide you accordingly. And I will tell you, you can do a lot better than Draco Malfoy. He is unworthy of you. He is weak, a cowardly little boy - "

"Nothing like Abraxas, I'm sure," Harry said snidely, unable to help himself.

Voldemort stared at him, his eyes glowing crimson. "Tom told you about that, did he?" He looked furious. Then his face changed. "You two are spending a lot of time together, you and my younger self. Do not bother denying it. I know. I know there is a sympathy between you two. Perhaps you are considering him over Draco. But you can do better than Tom, Harry." He smiled and it was more like a leer. His eyes raked over Harry. "You are not unattractive. You are powerful. Yes, I think you would be a fine Consort to Lord Voldemort."

Harry reared back in disgust. "You're repulsive."

"I could show you such pleasures, you cannot even imagine," Voldemort said, his eyes piercing.

And then suddenly Harry was assaulted with a flood of images in his head, of him and Voldemort in bed together, naked, their bodies twisted together in sensual abandon. Voldemort was using the link, filling his mind with it - a vision of Harry with his head thrown back in pleasure as Voldemort thrust into him; Voldemort caressing him, his hands all over Harry's body - Harry didn't just see it, he could _feel_ it. He cried out in horror, "Stop!"

"I will give you so much pleasure," Voldemort said heatedly, his voice low and seductive. "Let me show you, Harry ..."

Harry gasped, "No!" He could feel Voldemort's lust though the link. It was overpowering. He was frozen, unable to move. He could feel Voldemort's hands all over him, avaricious, possessive, grasping. He could feel him inside him, thrusting slowly. It felt like it was really happening to him. He felt a hand glide down the front of his stomach and wrap around him, stroking. "Stop!" he shouted.

"STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" a voice roared. It was Tom; he rushed into the painting, wand drawn, and pointed it at Voldemort. He was shaking with rage, and Harry could feel his magic crackling through the portrait.

"Go away, Tom. He is _mine_ ," Voldemort said fiercely, his eyes still on Harry. "He has always been mine. Haven't you, pet?" Harry felt another thrust.

Tom lunged at the mirror.

Gasping, Harry broke free from Voldemort's mental hold and ran out of the room.

He ran down the stairs, all the way to the first floor and into the bathroom. He felt like he was going to be sick. Retching, he bent over and threw up into the toilet. He felt so dirty. He doubled over and threw up again. He was shaking uncontrollably. He sat down on the floor and tried to breathe. Voldemort had violated him in the worst way possible. He covered his face with his hands, feeling like he was hyperventilating. He tried to focus on his breathing. _He wouldn't think about it._ It happened, it was over. _He wouldn't think about it._

There was a knock at the door. "Master? Is Master ill?"

"I'm fine," Harry called out after a moment. "I'll be out in a minute." He got up, still shaking, and went over to the sink. He turned on the tap. After taking his glasses off, he splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth out. He brushed his teeth again. _He wouldn't think about it._ Draco's wand was on the floor; he'd dropped it when he came into the bathroom. He picked it up and tucked it away, then flushed the toilet. When he finally opened the door, Kreacher was still there, waiting for him.

"Is Master all right?"

"Yeah," he said, letting out a breath. "I wasn't feeling well but I'm fine now."

Kreacher stared at him. "Is there anything Kreacher can get for Master?"

"Yes," he said, thinking about it. "There's a painting in my room - the one of the field with the big tree in it. I want you to take it out and move it to one of the other bedrooms on the third floor."

Kreacher nodded. "Yes, Master."

Harry checked the time. It was 9:45. He needed to pull himself together. "Er - do we have any Calming Draughts in the house?"

"Yes. Does Master want one?" Kreacher asked.

Harry nodded. "It's not for me," he said quickly. "It's for a friend."

Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a crack. Seconds later he returned, Calming Draught in hand.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking it from him. He made a show of tucking it into his pocket. "Can you move the painting now, please?"

"Yes, Master."

As soon as Kreacher disappeared, he went into the bathroom. He took out the Calming Draught, uncorked it, and downed it in one go. After a few seconds he could feel its effects. He felt considerably calmer and more serene. He wouldn't think about it. It was over.

At ten o'clock he Apparated to Andromeda's house.

Draco was sitting outside on the front steps, waiting for him.

"Hi," Harry said, walking up to him.

"Hello," Draco said, inclining his head. He looked at Harry more closely. "Are you all right, Potter? You look weird."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He reached into his pocket and took out Draco's wand then offered it to him.

Draco took it. "Thank you," he murmured after a moment. He held it in his hand and stared at it for a while. "You used this in the duel with the Dark Lord," he said quietly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah." _He didn't want to think about Voldemort._

The front door opened and Andromeda peeked her head out. "Oh, Harry, good, you're here. Draco, did you invite Harry in for tea?"

Draco looked at Harry and shrugged. "Would you like some tea?" he asked.

"Oh - I - "

"You can see Teddy," Andromeda said. "He's wearing that darling outfit you got him."

"Okay," he said. "Er - thanks."

Draco stood up and moved to the side to let Harry go in first.

They followed Andromeda into the sitting room. Narcissa was there, sitting on the sofa; Teddy was on her lap.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," she said with an elegant nod.

"Good morning," he said politely. "Please, call me Harry."

"Then you must call me Narcissa."

He smiled awkwardly then looked at Draco.

Draco seemed amused by his discomfiture. "Sit down, Potter," he said, going over to the sofa and sitting beside his mother.

Harry went and sat in the chair next to the sofa, by Draco.

Andromeda said, "Would you like a cup of tea, dear?"

"Oh - er ... yes, please."

Teddy squealed and started bouncing up and down excitedly. He reached his arms out towards Harry.

Narcissa smiled. "He wants you to hold him." She got up and held the baby out for Harry to take him.

"Hi, Teddy," he said, reaching for him. He settled the baby on his lap and looked down at him, smiling. Teddy grinned up at him toothlessly. He was adorable.

Andromeda brought a cup of tea over and placed it on the small side table next to him, then she gave Draco a cup.

"Thank you," Harry murmured.

Draco echoed him.

Harry wouldn't think about what happened with Voldemort. But as they sat there it was impossible to forget what he'd said about Draco and Narcissa. Harry sneaked a look at Draco. Was the Slytherin really besotted with him?

Draco was staring at him, sipping his tea.

Harry glanced at Narcissa; she was watching both of them, her face impassive. He quickly focused his attention back on Teddy.

"Thank you for giving Draco his wand back," Narcissa said after a moment.

He looked at her then at Draco. "I always intended to give it back. I just didn't have the chance to until now."

Teddy started squirming restlessly.

"Oh," Andromeda said. "I think he's ready for his walk." She smiled at Harry. "I usually take him to the park every morning around this time." She turned to Narcissa. "Shall we take him now?"

"Potter and I can take him," Draco said. He looked at Harry. "Right, Potter?"

"Um ... yes, we could take him," Harry said slowly. "Where's the park?"

"Just up the street," Andromeda said. "You're sure?" she asked Harry. When he nodded, she said, "Let me get his stroller." She went out into the hall and returned a moment later wheeling the stroller in. "I'll buckle him in," she said. She took Teddy from him then put him in the stroller and fastened the straps.

Harry and Draco both stood up.

A minute later they were outside. Andromeda gave them directions to the park, then bid them farewell.

When she went inside, Draco looked at Harry and said, "I could tell you were uncomfortable so I figured taking him to the park was the better option."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Thanks." He pushed the stroller forward and they began to walk.

"So ... what are you up to these days, Potter?" Draco asked after a moment.

"Nothing really. I'm mostly just at home."

"You live in the Black House, right?"

"Yes."

"It's weird to think you're living there. Do you like it?"

"I didn't at first, but I do now." He looked at Draco. "Have you ever been there?"

"No."

"Oh."

"What's it like?"

Harry described it.

"And you're there by yourself? Or are Weasley and Granger staying with you?"

"No. It's just me. Well, me and Kreacher," he said. And Tom and Voldemort, he thought silently. He quickly pushed the thought away. "What's it like staying at your aunt's house?"

Draco grimaced. "Weird. She looks a lot like Aunt Bellatrix - though she's nothing like her, thank Merlin." He grimaced again. "She and Mother were up all night last night drinking wine and talking and crying. I made myself scarce and stayed in my room."

"Merlin," Harry said. He couldn't imagine Narcissa like that. After a moment he said, "Can I ask you something? Er - how come you're not at Malfoy Manor? Is it ... not safe?"

"I don't want to live there anymore ... not after everything that happened," Draco said quietly.

Harry tried not to stare at him. He had seen some of what had happened through the link ... but now he knew more. Voldemort had tortured Draco to read his secrets. It made Harry sick. Had Voldemort taunted him about it? Had he punished Draco for it? Draco seemed so broken now; he was a shadow of the confident, arrogant boy he used to be. He looked so pale, and there was a haunted look in his eyes. What had Voldemort done to him?

"Are you all right, Potter?" Draco said, frowning.

"I - yeah. I was just thinking - it must have been horrible for you."

Draco looked away. "Can we not talk about it? I'm sure it was horrible for you too, but I ..." He trailed off, looking distressed.

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. He touched Draco's arm. "Sorry. We won't talk about it, okay?"

Draco nodded, and relaxed after a moment.

They had reached the park. There was a playground on one side and a pond with a walking path around it on the other. There were a few families at the playground so they took the path around the pond. Teddy burbled happily at the ducks and they stopped to let him look at them. After a minute Teddy started getting restless so they continued on; he settled once they started moving, sitting back contentedly and watching the scenery pass by as they ambled along the tree-lined path. It was a beautiful day, sunny and clear with a nice breeze.

"Is this a Muggle park, do you think?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Definitely."

"Oh. Are wizarding parks very different?"

"You've never been to a wizarding park?"

"No." He paused. "Well, I might have done when I was a baby, before my parents died ... but I wouldn't remember."

Draco was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Look, Potter ... I want to apologise for the things I said ... about you being an orphan. It was out of line."

Harry stared at him in surprise.

Draco's eyes were averted. He looked uncomfortable, but he continued, "I want to apologise for ... a lot of things. What you said yesterday - I ... feel the same way; I don't want to fight anymore."

Harry knew how hard it was for Draco to say that. "I'm glad," he said softly.

Draco looked at him, then looked away.

Harry felt a sudden rush of tenderness towards him. He could see that Draco really did have feelings for him - it was obvious. And he was realising he had feelings for Draco too. He could admit it now, at least to himself. He wasn't sure how Draco would react if he said anything though. Draco was so fragile right now, so vulnerable. It made Harry feel protective of him. He wanted to take Draco's hand and hold it, but he didn't want to spook him.

They continued walking. As they went around the bend, they saw a man approaching. Draco moved closer to Harry, tensing. Harry took his arm and murmured, "It's okay, it's just a Muggle." Draco nodded but didn't relax until the man passed.

There was a bench up ahead. "Let's sit down for a minute," Harry said, still holding Draco's arm and pushing the stroller with one hand. He guided them over to the bench and they sat down. Teddy started fussing.

"I'll take him," Draco said. He leaned down and unbuckled the straps then lifted Teddy out of the stroller. He was very gentle. Teddy settled in his arms and looked up at him brightly. Draco smiled at him, his face soft, and gently brushed his fingers through his hair. He looked around to make sure no one was watching then took his wand out and conjured a bunch of bubbles for Teddy's entertainment. They floated in the air in front of Teddy, and the baby whooped in delight, reaching out to grab at them. Draco smiled. When they disappeared, Teddy waved his arms excitedly, indicating he wanted more. Draco grinned and conjured another bunch of bubbles. The baby giggled, clapping his hands together.

Harry watched, charmed, as Draco continued the game, conjuring bubbles and making Teddy giggle. This was a side of Draco he'd never seen before. It was very appealing. When Draco looked at him and smiled, Harry felt a flutter in his stomach. He smiled back at him and said, "You're really good with him."

"He's a cute baby."

"What spell is that? Will you teach it to me?"

Draco taught him the incantation and Harry tried it a couple of times. Teddy bounced up and down gleefully, trying to catch the bubbles.

A woman walking her dog came into sight suddenly, and they quickly put their wands away. She came down the path towards them, and as she came nearer, she smiled at them. Teddy reached his hands out towards the dog, babbling enthusiastically. "He's precious," she said. "He looks just like you," she said to Draco. "Your baby brother?"

Draco nodded nervously and Harry reached out and touched his arm reassuringly.

"You two are adorable," she said, smiling. "You remind me of my son and his boyfriend."

Draco tensed and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry squeezed his arm. "Thank you," Harry said.

She smiled again and continued on her way.

Draco turned to stare at Harry. "She thought we were a couple. And you let her keep thinking it."

Harry shrugged. "I'm sure we'll never see her again. Who cares what she thinks?"

"Don't you? You don't care that she thought you were gay?"

Harry looked away and said quietly, "I am gay. Maybe she could tell." He might as well get it out in the open now.

Draco gaped at him. "You're gay?" he said incredulously.

"Yes. Possibly bisexual, but definitely more on the gay side," Harry said. "Look, don't tell anyone, okay? The only other person who knows is Hermione."

Draco looked gobsmacked.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Harry asked. He knew that Draco had feelings for him but maybe he was in denial about his own sexuality.

Draco averted his eyes. "No. I'm just ... surprised. You were with Weasley's sister, weren't you?"

"That's over."

"Oh." He looked at Harry again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No." Harry decided to push it further. "What about you? Are you still with Parkinson?"

Draco made a face. "I was never with her."

Teddy began to fuss.

"Maybe we should start walking again," Harry said. "Can you put him in the stroller?"

Draco looked like he wanted to continue the conversation but he nodded and put Teddy back in the stroller and strapped him in.

Harry stood up and took hold of the handles. He pushed the stroller back on the path and began to walk. Draco followed, catching up to him in a few steps.

After a minute, Draco said, "Potter. Um ... I want to tell you something ..."

Harry looked at him.

"Um ... I am too," he said nervously. "I think. Probably."

"Oh," Harry said softly.

They walked in silence for a minute. Another person passed by.

Harry was about to say something when he suddenly felt the Galleon burning in his pocket. He took it out and read the message:

_Are you home? I really need to talk to you. It's an emergency._

"Shit," he said.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked. 

"It's a message from Hermione," he said, showing it to Draco. "Can you push the stroller? I need to send a message back."

Draco took control of the stroller and Harry quickly sent a reply:

_Give me ten minutes. I'll message you when I'm home._

"I'm going to have to go," Harry said. "She said it's an emergency."

Draco frowned and nodded.

Harry took control of the stroller again and started walking faster. "Sorry," he said as Draco kept up with him. "I hate to rush off like this but - "

"It's all right, Potter. I get it," Draco said. "Will you ... er ... come back tomorrow? We can take Teddy to the park again. I know my aunt would appreciate the break."

Harry looked at him. "Okay ... if Andromeda doesn't mind. I don't want to overstep."

"I'm sure she won't mind. You're Teddy's godfather."

They exited the park and turned on to the street.

Harry hated to go, right when they were in the middle of things, but Hermione needed him. What was the emergency? He was worried.

Draco touched his arm. "I'm sure it will be all right, whatever it is."

"Yeah. Hopefully. If it was life-threatening she would have said so."

They got to the house a minute later.

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Draco asked before they went inside.

Harry looked at him. "If I can. It depends on what the emergency is."

"Send me an owl and let me know, okay?"

Harry nodded.

Draco opened the door and Harry pushed the stroller inside.

Andromeda came into the hall from the sitting room. "Is everything all right?" she asked, taking in Harry's expression.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said. "I have to go. My friend needs me - it's an emergency."

She looked taken aback. "I hope everything is okay," she said, frowning in concern.

"Thanks," Harry said. He looked at Draco.

"Go on, Potter," he said. "But don't forget to send me an owl later," he added.

"Okay." He looked at Andromeda again. "Sorry. I better go."

She nodded understandingly.

"See you later. Er ... thanks for the tea," he said awkwardly.

Then he Apparated home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Yes, there will be some Harry and Draco. It will be fairly brief, a few chapters. Harry and Tom are the end game, but Harry really does have feelings for Draco too (and Voldemort's actions have only served to further drive Harry towards him) and that needs to be resolved.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and reviews. I appreciate the feedback more than I can say. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Things have taken a decided turn - I'd love to know what you all think of it.


	16. Chapter 16

The moment he got home, he quickly sent a message to Hermione, telling her to come over and to Apparate straight into the drawing room. A couple of minutes later, she arrived.

"What happened?" Harry asked immediately.

She sat down on the sofa next to him. "I've decided I'm going to go to Australia by myself - tonight," she said quietly.

"Tonight?" he said in surprise. "And you don't want Ron to go with you?"

"Mrs Weasley needs him at home right now. It would be selfish to take him away when she's still grieving the way she is. She's having a really hard time. George won't come out of his room. And Bill and Fleur have gone back to Shell Cottage. If Ron went with me, it would be just Charlie and Ginny really. Mr Weasley is so busy with work - he's still going through the Death Eaters' houses to remove all the cursed artifacts - so it's just her at home with her children. I can't take Ron away from her."

"What does Ron think about it?"

She let out a sigh. "He thinks that him being away won't make any difference. But it will. I know. I overheard Mrs Weasley talking to Ginny earlier this morning. She's been acting supportive but she doesn't really want Ron to go ... and I understand that." She looked down at her lap. "The truth is, I feel like I'm intruding on them. I went to the Burrow to be there for Ron but I feel like I'm in the way. It's a house in mourning. I shouldn't be there. They're being very kind to me but I'm not part of their family."

Harry understood; he'd feel the same way if he were at the Burrow. "Hermione, if you feel uncomfortable, you know you can always stay here," he said.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Can I stay here until I leave tonight?"

He nodded. "Of course." 

"Thanks." She smiled, looking relieved.

"What about Ron?" he asked after a moment. "Does he know that you're planning to go tonight?"

"I'm going to tell him but I was hoping you could help me explain it to him. He's not going to understand. I don't know how he's going to react."

Harry didn't know either. Ron could be unpredictable. "Look, I get why you want Ron to stay at home with his family - I do - but I don't think you should go alone," he said. "I'll come with you." He would have to shrink the portrait and take it with him but he would do it. After everything Hermione did for him, the least he could do was to go with her and help her find her parents.

"No, Harry. You don't have to. It's sweet of you to offer but I think this is something I have to do on my own. I did this to them; I want to fix it on my own. If it works - if I can reverse the memory charm - they're going to be very upset with me. I didn't give them a choice; I just did it, without their consent. They're going to be furious," she said, biting her lip. "I need to be alone with them ... to sort everything out. They left England and moved to Australia - I made them do that. They're going to be so angry with me."

"They'll understand when you explain everything. Won't they?"

"Yes, they'll understand the explanation but they'll still be very angry. I'm not sure they'll forgive me for not telling them beforehand and giving them a choice." Her voice wavered. "I'm not sure they'll want to come back with me. I don't know what's going to happen."

"Hermione, you're their daughter and they love you. They might be upset but I can't imagine that they wouldn't forgive you."

"I hope you're right," she whispered. "I don't know what I'll do otherwise." She was quiet for a moment, then she said, "What if I can't reverse the memory charm? What will I do then? I'll have no home, no money, nothing but what I'm carrying with me right now."

"If the worst happened, you always have a home here at Grimmauld Place. I hope you know that." He took her hand and squeezed it. "But I know you _will_ be able to reverse the memory charm and I know they'll forgive you for doing what you did. Everything will work out. I'm sure of it."

Ron came over shortly after. As Harry and Hermione both expected, he was upset by the change of plans and didn't understand why Hermione wanted to go by herself, but after Hermione explained it to him, he was surprisingly supportive. Kreacher made them lunch, then afterwards, they put on Glamours and went to Diagon Alley to the wizarding travel agency so Hermione could get her Portkey to Sydney.

While she and Ron were there sorting out the details of her trip, Harry went to Gringotts. Removing his Glamour once he was inside, he got some money from the Potter vault, then reinstated the Glamour and returned to his friends. He tried to give Hermione the money but she refused to take it at first. He was insistent so she finally took it, with a promise to pay him back as soon as she could. He waved it off, telling her not to worry about it. He wanted to tell her he had more money than he could ever spend but he didn't want to say that in front of Ron.

After they left the travel agency, they went to Flourish and Botts so Hermione could look for more books on memory charms. They didn't have anything she didn't already have. Harry thought of Voldemort's vault and all the books he had at his disposal.

"Er - I inherited a vault from the Blacks that has a huge library in it," he lied. "I can take a look and see if there's anything there that might help you. I'd let you come with me and look for yourself but only the heir of the vault can enter it." He couldn't take them to the vault; it was too much of a risk - Bill Weasley worked for Gringotts and Harry couldn't take any chances that he might hear Ulbrok's name from Ron and connect it to Voldemort. "I'll go see if I can get a list of the books I inherited then meet you at the Leaky Cauldron," he proposed.

Hermione and Ron left for the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry returned to Gringotts. At the front desk, he called for Ulbrok, and when the goblin arrived, he asked to speak to him privately. Ulbrok seemed to recognise him, even under the Glamour, so Harry left it on even when they went to a private room and Harry explained that he needed to visit the vault.

"I'm going to want an itemised list of everything that's in there," he told the goblin. "I particularly want a list of all the books."

"I can give that to you now," Ulbrok said. He told him to wait and left the room, then returned a few minutes later with a large leather-bound book. "This is your copy," he said, giving it to Harry.

Harry took a look at it. It was a sort of ledger, and in it was an extensive list of everything in the vault. The books were listed in alphabetical order, by topic. "This is perfect," he said.

"The ones with an 'x' next to them are Dark and many of them are dangerous," Ulbrok said with a nasty grin. "You'll want to be careful with those."

Harry was scanning the list, looking for a section on Memory Charms. As he flipped through the 'M' section he saw a section on Magical Bonds. There was one book called ' _Magical Bonds and Magical Links' -_  he decided he would get it while he was in there; he wanted to know everything he could about his link with Voldemort. After what Voldemort did, Harry was afraid of what else he could do. The memory of Voldemort violating him flashed in his mind, and he ruthlessly pushed it away.  _He wouldn't think about it_.

Resolutely, he returned his focus back to the task at hand. He flipped to the 'B' section, looking for anything on Blood Magic. There were several books listed, many with 'x's beside the titles. There were a few titles without 'x's that looked promising; he would get them too, he decided.

"Can you give me just a list of the books?" he asked Ulbrok. "I want to let my friend look at it but I don't want to show anyone this ledger. I want just a list of the books, with no identifying information on it - just the list."

"As you wish, Mr Potter." Ulbrok left the room again, then returned a few minutes later with a smaller book. Harry flipped through it, making sure Voldemort's name and the vault number was nowhere on it or in it. When he was satisfied, he turned to the goblin and said, "I'm going to speak to my friends and then I'd like you take me to the vault. I'll be back shortly." Before leaving, he Shrunk the larger book with the full inventory of the vault and put it in his pocket.

When Harry got to the Leaky Cauldron and rejoined his friends, he took the book out and opened it to the Memory Charms section, then gave it to Hermione. She began eagerly looking through it. She immediately pointed to one of the titles. "This might be good," she said.

It had an 'x' next to it. "Er - the ones with 'x's are Dark and potentially dangerous," he said.

"Oh." She pointed to another title. "This one then." Her eyes were scanning the list. "And this one ... oh ... and this one. Oh! There are so many good ones. I don't know which to choose."

Harry smiled. "Just circle the ones you want. I'll get them all."

Hermione got a self-inking quill from her bag and began to circle the titles she was interested in. When she finished she slid the book over to Harry. "Sorry there are so many," she said.

"It's fine," he said. "I'll shrink them so they're easier to carry."

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out another bag. "You can put them in here. It's got an Undetectable Extension Charm on it."

He grinned at her. "Always prepared," he said, taking the bag. 

She smiled and shrugged.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said.

He returned to Gringotts, and called for Ulbrok again. Once they got to the vault, Harry opened the ledger and flipped to the Memory Charm section. Tom had told him to try to do his spells wandlessly as much as possible, so he wandlessly Summoned all the books Hermione wanted, checking them one by one to make sure they had no identifying marks or initials in them before Shrinking them and putting them in Hermione's bag.

When he was done, he opened the ledger again and flipped to the section on Magical Bonds. He Summoned ' _Magical Bonds and Magical Links'_  then flipped to the Blood Magic section. There were several pages of books listed; he scanned through them and Summoned four books that sounded interesting.

Next, he looked up Parselmagic in the ledger. There were several books listed - and he was pleased and a little surprised to see that none of them had 'x's next to them. He searched his memory for the name of the Parselmagic ritual Tom had mentioned. After a moment, it came to him -

:: _ **Accio book with the Solidum Essentia Animae ritual in it**_ :: he intoned in Parseltongue, hoping it would work; a second later, the book flew into his hands. He Shrunk his stack of books but he hadn't brought his rucksack and he wouldn't be able to fit them in his pocket. Sighing, he put them in Hermione's bag; he would have to go home and drop his books off before meeting back with Hermione and Ron at the Leaky Cauldron.

Leaving the vault, he joined Ulbrok by the cart. "I'm done," he said. "But I need to ask you something first before we go back. What are the exact terms of my daily visit to the portrait? How long do I have to visit it each day?"

"There is no specified amount of time," the goblin answered.

"So if I went in and visited it for a few seconds, that would meet the terms?"

"Yes, I suppose it would," Ulbrok said, his eyes glittering.

"Good," Harry said. "That's all I wanted to know. We can go now." He got into the cart. Ulbrok followed, and then they were off.

As soon as he was outside Gringotts he Apparated home, straight to his bedroom.

Kreacher had taken the painting out, which he was glad for. He didn't want to see Tom - he needed space after what had happened with Voldemort.

Taking the ledger out of his pocket, he reversed the Shrinking Charm, then took his books out of Hermione's bag and Unshrunk them too. He hid them in the bottom of the wardrobe, along with the Parselmagic book he'd left on his bedside table, then Apparated back to Diagon Alley, outside the Leaky Cauldron.

After meeting back up with Hermione and Ron, they returned to Grimmauld Place, Apparating into the drawing room. Once they'd removed their Glamours, Harry gave the bag to Hermione. She thanked him excitedly and went straight to the sofa. She began pulling out the books, and after reversing the Shrinking Charm on each of them, she stacked them in a pile in front of her, then picked up the top one and began looking through it.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

"She'll be lost to us now," Ron joked.

"Do you want to play chess?" Harry asked with a grin.

They played a few games while Hermione pored over the stack of books. After the third game, Ron checked the time. "I should go home for a bit, spend some time with Mum," he said. "Dad's working, and Charlie and Ginny went out so she's mostly been on her own this afternoon."

Hermione put down the book she was reading and came over. "I'm leaving at ten o'clock," she said. "Will you come back at nine? I'm going to have a nap so I won't be tired when I get there but I'll be up by then."

"Of course," he said to her. They hugged, then Ron kissed her.

Harry looked away, smiling. "Oi, you two. Not in front of me," he joked.

Hermione blushed. "See you later," she said to Ron.

Ron nodded and kissed her again. "Bye, Harry. See you in a bit," he said. Then he Apparated back to the Burrow.

Hermione let out a sigh and turned to Harry. "That went better than I expected. I thought he'd be angry."

"No, he understood," Harry said.

Hermione smiled. "He always surprises me when I least expect it."

"And now you two are together. I'm glad. I'm happy for you, Hermione. For you both."

She blushed again. "Thanks." She smiled softly. "It's going well, I think." She sat down across from him. After a moment she said, "Now that we're alone, we can talk about _you_. How are you doing? I know you're going through a lot right now, discovering your heritage, finding out that you're the Black heir, coming to terms with your sexuality. And on top of all that, you're still recovering from ... the war," she said delicately. "So how are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She looked at him more closely. "Your scar doesn't hurt anymore?"

"No."

"What about the other one - the mark the Locket Horcrux left. Has that been bothering you at all?"

"No, why would it?" he asked. She was looking at him strangely.

"I just wondered," she said.

"Why would you think it's bothering me?"

She didn't speak for a moment. "I just wanted to make sure it wasn't."

"But why would it?"

"I don't know," she said, not looking at him.

Harry frowned. She was acting weird, he thought uneasily. "What aren't you telling me, Hermione?"

"Nothing. Er - just ... when we left Bathilda's house and you were unconscious ... you know ... the locket had attached itself to you and I couldn't get it off until I used the Severing Charm. I wondered if the locket affected you ... if ... um ... there were any after-effects."

Harry stared at her. "Why would there be after-effects? We destroyed it."

"Then it's fine. I just wondered. I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I leave, in case you need me for anything."

"Hermione, did something happen when I was unconscious? Something you're not telling me? I remember when I woke up - you said I'd been 'shouting and moaning ... and things'. That's what you said. I remember. So what exactly happened? Tell me."

She looked uncomfortable. "It was nothing. You were delirious."

"What did I say?" He remembered that right before he woke he had seen Voldemort murdering his parents and casting the killing curse at him as a baby, and he had thought Hermione was acting weird then because he'd maybe shouted the curses like Voldemort or cried like the baby. But she was fixated on the Horcrux now, like it was significant. What had he said?

"It was nothing," she repeated.

"Look, I have the right to know. If you're uncomfortable telling me, will you show me?"

"What - like in a Pensieve?" she said, frowning. "Do you even have a Pensieve?"

"No, but I know a spell."

"What spell?"

"Um - it shows a memory like a Pensieve, kind of, but it projects it - like a Muggle film. I learned it from Snape's memories," he lied.

She frowned.

"Will you show me what happened?" Harry said quickly, not wanting to get sidetracked.

"I - all right, if you really want to see it," she said in a resigned voice. "You're not going to like it."

He taught her the spell and she concentrated, pulling the memory out of her head, then cast it.

The memory began:

They were in the tent; Harry was laying on the lower bunk and Hermione was tending to the snake bite on his forearm. Harry was mumbling incoherently and thrashing, clutching his heart.

"Shh," Hermione murmured, trying to soothe him. "It's okay - you're okay ..."

Harry got more agitated. "It's mine ... you can't have it ..." he mumbled.

Hermione tried to pull his hand away from his heart. "Harry, the locket - let go. I need to get it off you."

"No," he shouted. He went quiet suddenly. " _Don't listen to the Mudblood_ ," he whispered, sounding like Riddle. " _She doesn't understand_  ..."

"Harry!" she cried, trying to pry his hand away. "Let go!" She looked panicked.

" _Don't touch him, you filthy Mudblood_ ," Harry hissed in Riddle's voice. " _Leave us alone_  ..." Then Harry moaned and said in his voice, "No, stop. It's mine. You can't have it ..."

Hermione screamed, "Let go, Harry. I have to get it off! It's possessing you!" She yanked his hand away, holding it down when he tried to grab hold of it again, and tried to pull the Horcrux away but it was attached to Harry's chest.

" _You are mine_ ," Harry said softly in Riddle's voice. " _Mine_  ...  _Don't listen to her, Harry_  ...  _She doesn't understand_  ..."

Hermione frantically tried to pull the Horcrux off him, screaming, "Leave him alone! Let him go!" When she couldn't pry it loose, she aimed her wand, her face panicked, and cast a Severing Spell. She grabbed hold of the Horcrux and yanked it away, breaking the chain, and threw it on the ground. "Oh god," she cried. "Please be okay, Harry ..." She covered the burn the Horcrux left on his chest with her hand then looked at his face. Harry moaned and mumbled Tom's name then went unconscious.

The memory ended.

Hermione said quietly, "You were out for hours after that then later you began mumbling and shouting ... and then you woke up."

"Why did you never tell me?" he asked, not looking at her.

"I didn't want to upset you," she said pleadingly.

Harry didn't know what to say.

"I was so scared," she said softly. "I knew as soon as you started speaking in Parseltongue that it was possessing you, and I couldn't get it off you."

He had been speaking Parseltongue? He was relieved. She didn't know what had been said. He had to pretend he didn't either. "Yeah ... it looked pretty mental," he said.

"But you're okay now. Ron destroyed the Locket and you're fine. Right?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Of course."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to upset you and you seemed unharmed - except for the mark it left - so I just ... didn't say anything. Then Ron came and destroyed it so it seemed pointless. But I shouldn't have kept it from you." She looked at him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Hermione." He managed a smile. "It's over now."

"Yes," she said, looking relieved. "I just had to check, before I leave, to make sure it didn't have any after-effects. You promise you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said firmly. "It didn't have any after-effects."

"It's really over, isn't it?" she said after a moment. "Sometimes it's hard to believe it, but it really is. You never have to worry about Voldemort again."

"Yeah," he said, trying to sound normal.

She looked at him closely and he forced himself to smile. It must not have been convincing because she frowned. "Harry, you know it's okay if you feel a little weird about it, don't you? He was after you for so long, and you had a piece of his soul attached to you for most of your life - I imagine you feel a little strange being free suddenly. It might take some time to adjust to ... the new reality."

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "I guess I do feel a bit weird ..."

She nodded understandingly. "I think that's to be expected."

"Yeah ... "

"How are you feeling otherwise? When you gave Draco his wand back did you see Andromeda and Narcissa? Have you talked to them about being related to them?"

"Er - no. I did see Andromeda and Narcissa but only for a few minutes because Draco and I took Teddy to the park and then I got your message - "

"Oh! I'm sorry if it worried you. I was panicking because of what Mrs Weasley said to Ginny and I was upset and needed to get out of there. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything." She looked at him closely. "Harry! You're blushing. Did I interrupt something between you and Draco?"

"Um ... well ..." He was embarrassed now thinking about it. The Calming Draught had worn off and now that he was thinking about it he realised perhaps the Calming Draught had had more of an effect on him than he'd thought. It had made him more uninhibited with Draco than maybe he would have otherwise been.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

How could he explain? "I'm going to tell you something but you can't tell anyone, okay?" She nodded. "You know how I said I saw Draco a few times through the link with Voldemort?" She nodded again. "Well, I found out that Draco has feelings for me - Voldemort tortured him to read his mind and that's what Draco was hiding from him."

Hermione gasped.

"I don't know what he did to Draco after - if he punished him for it or taunted him about it - but ... um ... anyway ... when I saw Draco today, he was nicer than he's ever been to me and I sort of realised I ... er ... have feelings for him too. He apologised for the past, which I know was really hard for him to do. And then when we were at the park we were sitting on the bench with Teddy and this woman came by and thought we were a couple and then I sort of ended up telling him that I'm gay. And then he told me he is too."

"Merlin," Hermione whispered.

"And then I got your message so we went back to Andromeda's - but before I left, he asked if I would come back tomorrow to take Teddy to the park with him again." He finally looked at her.

"So ... it's like a date?"

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "There was kind of a vibe ... but ... I don't know ..." He looked away and said, "Is it ... bad that I like him? He was so horrible to you and to Ron and to me ... but he was nice today and he apologised to me ... and you should have seen the way he was with Teddy. He was really good with him - "

"Harry," Hermione said softly. "It's okay. I understand. There was always something between you two - I told you that the other day. If you like him, I'm not going to judge you for it." She was silent for a moment. "When we were at Malfoy Manor, he didn't tell them it was you. If he'd given you away, he could have restored his family's standing in Voldemort's eyes. Lucius was pushing him but he didn't say it was you. I guess we know why now. That was actually very brave of him, really," she said thoughtfully.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It was."

Her face was pensive. "It's tragic, honestly. Draco is a product of his upbringing - imagine having a father like Lucius and then being forced to serve Voldemort. And all that time, he had feelings for you - his supposed enemy. It must have been so hard for him," she said.

"He was raised to believe in blood purity and to believe that he and his family were superior to everyone, but when things got real - when Voldemort made him a Death Eater - he found he wasn't cut out for it. He's a lot softer at heart than he's pretended to be. He wasn't prepared for the reality of Voldemort - and he's really messed up now."

"I imagine he would be." She looked sympathetic. "So you're going to see him tomorrow ..." she murmured.

"I want to," Harry said quietly. "But what if something happens between me and Draco? Ron will never understand. I'm worried enough what he's going to think about me being gay, but if I get involved with Draco, he's going to be so ... I don't know what."

"He's pretty unforgiving about Draco," Hermione said. "But I think he'll understand ... in time." She looked at Harry. "Don't let that stop you. If you like Draco and you think being with him might make you happy, you should give it a chance."

"You really think so? You would be okay with it?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I want you to be happy. You've done so much for everyone else, now it's your turn to do what you want. And screw anyone who doesn't understand."

"Hermione!" She didn't usually swear like that. They both started laughing.

"I just hate that I'm leaving right when all this is going on," she said after a moment. "I want to be here for you."

Harry smiled. "I'll be fine," he said. "I want you to find your parents and get everything sorted. That's the most important thing right now." He looked at her. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I am," she said. "But thank you for offering."

Harry checked the time. "It's coming up on five o'clock now. Do you want dinner sooner or later? When are you going to have a nap?"

"If I have a nap now, can we have dinner at eight?"

"Yeah, that's perfect."

They both got up.

"I'll set an alarm charm for quarter to eight then," she said.

After Hermione went into her room, the one on the first floor she had once shared with Ginny, Harry went down to the kitchen to tell Kreacher that dinner would be later than usual. Then he went upstairs to his bedroom. He was still avoiding Tom. The last thing he wanted to do was think about what had happened with Voldemort and he knew Tom would want to talk about it.

Plus, he needed distance from Tom. He couldn't trust him. Tom had obviously known about Draco and Narcissa and he'd kept it from Harry. He'd told Harry to stay away from Draco. Was it out of jealousy? Or was it because Tom was trying to get Harry to fall for him and Draco was a threat to his undivided attention? Harry didn't know what to believe. He thought about the Locket Horcrux. The Locket Riddle had said, "You are mine," and that Hermione didn't understand. What had it meant by that exactly?

He wandlessly locked the door then cast an Imperturbable Charm and a Muffliato Charm. It was getting easier to cast wandless magic, he noticed - it seemed like Tom had unlocked the ability within him, and the more Harry practised, the easier it was. But he would need his wand to do the next spell. He took it out, pressing the tip of the wand to his temple. Concentrating, he focused on the memory he wanted to see, then he cast the spell. 

The memory began:

He had just told Ron that Ron was the one who had to destroy the Locket Horcrux, and he was about to open it so Ron could stab it with the sword. "One ... two ... three ..." ::  _ **Open**_  :: he hissed in Parseltongue.

The doors of the locket swung open, revealing Riddle's eyes. They looked just like Tom's.

"Stab," Harry said, holding the locket steady on the rock. The eyes were swivelling around, then came to rest on him, but he was looking at Ron.

::  _ **I have seen your heart and it is mine**_ :: Riddle said. In the present, Harry could see that Riddle was talking to  _him_ , not to Ron, like he'd thought. This time he noticed that the words were spoken in Parseltongue, and Riddle's eyes were fixed on Harry, but Harry was still looking at Ron.

"Don't listen to it! Stab it!" Harry said harshly.

And then Riddle spoke to Ron. " _I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible_  ..."

Harry barely paid attention to the rest of the memory. Riddle had said to  _him_ , "I have seen your heart and it is mine." And when Riddle had possessed Harry, he'd said, "You are mine." Had Riddle seen Harry's attraction to him? Had he been trying to seduce Harry when he possessed him? When Harry had watched the memory with Hermione, he'd wondered, but he couldn't be sure. His own words in the memory were open to interpretation. He'd said, "No, it's mine. You can't have it." Had he been talking about the Locket Horcrux itself ... or his own heart? He had moaned Tom's name before going unconscious. What had happened exactly between him and the Riddle from the locket?

Harry lay back on the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. He didn't know what to think anymore.

His attraction to Tom was a weakness that could be exploited, that's all he knew for sure. Part of him believed that Tom felt it too, that the attraction was mutual ... but it could be an act - no, it probably _was_ an act, he told himself severely. He closed his eyes, sick at the thought. How could he be so stupid? Why couldn't he just be cool and logical about Tom? Well ... he knew why but he didn't want to think about it. The worst thing was, he still wanted to believe in Tom. What if Tom really  _had_  changed? What if it  _wasn't_  an act? The things Tom had said the night before - what he'd said was very believable, very convincing. And the feelings that came through the link had seemed so genuine.

But the link could be manipulated - look what Voldemort had done with it. Harry didn't want to think about what happened with Voldemort, but now it was in his head.

Had the Dark Lord done it just to mess with Harry or had he been genuinely trying to seduce him? The lust that came through the link had been overwhelming. Harry shuddered. Voldemort had told Tom, "He is mine. He has always been mine," and Harry had felt his hunger and possessiveness. And then there was Tom. He had been so enraged - he'd looked deranged when he went after Voldemort. Harry had felt his possessiveness too.

What was real? Did either of them actually want Harry or had they both just decided that seducing him was their best hope for resurrection? He didn't care what Voldemort's real motives were, but he did care about Tom's. Harry hated that he was so confused about the Slytherin boy. He should just assume that it was all a lie. But he couldn't. He wanted to believe that Tom had changed and that the feeling between them was genuine.

He thought about his mother. Lily had told him that Tom wasn't Voldemort - so he could trust that, at least. She'd also told him that they could learn a lot from each other - that Tom could teach him what he knows and Harry could teach Tom what he knows. She'd told him to follow his heart. But his heart was leading him down a dangerous path.

He was falling for Tom. That much was obvious. He had always been attracted to him, from the start - even in his second year, before the Diary Horcrux showed its true colours. But now it had reached a new level. Harry was absolutely infatuated with Tom now, and it had only been a few days. It was ridiculous.

His head was telling him to stop being foolish and to assume that Tom was his enemy. His heart was telling him to believe in him. Even now, even while he was trying to avoid him, a huge part of Harry wanted to go talk to him, to see his face, to spend time with him. Worse, a part of him wanted to go to sleep so he could dream about him again. What he'd felt for Tom in his dreams was stronger than anything he'd ever felt for anyone, and he suspected that he'd never feel that way - at least that intensely - for anyone else ... ever, because his connection with Tom was entirely unique and it was the most powerful and compelling connection he would undoubtedly ever have with anyone; he'd had a piece of Tom's soul inside him for almost all of his life - the soul fragment had been corrupted and damaged beyond repair, but it had once been Tom's, not just Voldemort's. The truth was, Harry had felt a strange emptiness inside himself after Voldemort had cast the killing curse on him and destroyed the soul fragment ... until he'd inherited the portrait. And when he was with Tom, and the link was open, he'd felt ... whole, in a way he'd never felt before. It was a terrifying thought.

He had to stop thinking about it.

He could think about Draco. Draco was safer, easier, less complicated. Draco was someone he had feelings for too, and there was something between him and Harry that was powerful in its own right. Their fates had been so intertwined, really since they met. It was because of Draco that Harry had been able to defeat Voldemort. That meant something to Harry.

Athena hooted suddenly.

"Do you want to go outside and fly around?" he asked her. He got up and opened the window; Athena flew out of her cage and landed on the sill then nibbled on his fingers affectionately when he pet her. After a moment, she flew off. He left the window open and went back to his bed and sat down. The meditation book caught his eye. He thought about the books he got earlier, particularly the one about magical bonds. He wanted to check that one out the most, but he would have to wait until Hermione had gone. Picking up the meditation book, he began reading it. It was interesting. He read the first chapter and then the second. Athena came back in and flew into her cage when he'd started on the third. He checked the time. It was almost seven. He decided to keep reading. The third chapter had several exercises and they seemed fairly easy. He was about to try one when an owl came flying in through the window and dropped an envelope on his lap then flew over to the sill, waiting for a reply.

He opened it. It was from Draco:

_Potter,_

_Is everything all right? Can you come tomorrow? Aunt Andromeda said she would be very pleased if we could take Teddy to the park. Please reply if you can._

_Draco_

Harry smiled, pleased to see he'd signed it as just Draco. After wandlessly Summoning some parchment and an envelope and a quill, he wrote his reply:

_Draco,_

_Everything is fine. Yes, I can come tomorrow. Since Teddy usually goes to the park around ten, I'll come a little before that. Will you let Andromeda know? See you tomorrow._

_Harry_

After Andromeda's owl flew off to deliver his reply, Harry checked the time; Hermione would be getting up any minute, so he went downstairs. Hermione joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, looking a bit bleary-eyed.

They had dinner, then Hermione went to take a shower. At nine o'clock Ron came over. The three of them hung out in the drawing room, going over Hermione's travel itinerary, and before they knew it, it was almost ten o'clock. Hermione took out her Portkey and they said their goodbyes, and at ten o'clock, Hermione activated the Portkey; a few minutes after she'd gone, she sent them both messages on their charmed Galleons, letting them know she'd arrived safely. Ron seemed a bit downcast.

"She'll be all right," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm just going to miss her, that's all."

They hung out for a bit, then Ron went home.

Harry was knackered so he went straight to bed afterwards. He tried to meditate but it wasn't as easy without Tom. He had to resist the impulse to get up and go talk to him. The fact that he was feeling this way was proof that he needed to keep his distance. After tossing and turning for a while, he fell into a restless sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

He slept fitfully. His dreams were muddled, and when Harry woke, he couldn't remember what they'd been about. After he had breakfast, he went up to the fourth floor to get the visit with Voldemort out of the way. He paused outside the door to reinforce his Occlumency shields, then he opened the door and went in.

"One ... two ... three," he counted, only glancing at the portrait for a second. "That's your visit for the day," he said coldly, then he walked out and shut the door firmly behind him. He could hear Voldemort calling his name, but he ignored it.

He quickly made his way down the stairs and went into his bedroom. Part of him wanted to go see Tom, but he decided he would wait until he got back from Andromeda's. He went to the wardrobe and picked out what he was going to wear. After selecting a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and a jacket, he grabbed the rest of what he needed and went down to the bathroom. He took a long shower, then shaved, and by the time he finished getting ready, it was half past nine.

He would leave in about twenty minutes, he decided. He was about to go upstairs to his bedroom but Phineas Nigellus called out to him as he passed by the drawing room.

"I have a message from Minerva McGonagall," Phineas said when Harry went in. "They have started the process of rebuilding Hogwarts and now they are asking for help from anyone who can assist them. Are you interested?"

"Yes. Of course," Harry said.

Phineas nodded. "Can you come to Hogwarts today?"

"Er - yes, I suppose so. It would have to be later though. I'm about to go to Andromeda's house to take Teddy to the park with Draco."

Phineas raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Draco and Narcissa are staying at Andromeda's now," Harry explained.

Phineas looked surprised. "So ... our family is reconciling," he said. "And you're right in the middle of it, eh?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so."

Phineas nodded approvingly. "What time can you come to Hogwarts?"

"Er ... one o'clock?"

Phineas inclined his head. "I shall let the Headmistress know," he said. He gave a final nod, then turned and walked out of the frame, returning to his portrait at Hogwarts.

Shortly after, Harry Apparated to Andromeda's house. Draco answered the door. "Hi," Harry said.

"Hello," Draco said, a bit shyly. He gestured for Harry to come in. "Mother and Aunt Andromeda aren't here. They've gone out to do some shopping."

Harry followed him into the sitting room. Teddy was in the baby chair; as soon as he saw Harry, he grinned and reached his arms out to him. Harry smiled and went over to him. "Should I pick him up?" he asked Draco.

"Yes. We should probably take him to the park now - he's been restless. I'll go get his stroller."

Harry lifted Teddy out of the baby chair, carefully supporting his head, and settled him in his arms. Draco returned from the hall a moment later with the stroller. "Will you put him in it?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded and took Teddy from him then gently put him in the stroller and did up all the straps. Harry got behind it and took the handles, and Draco went into the hall and opened the front door.

After they got outside Draco cast a locking charm on the door, and then they set off.

"So ... um ... the emergency turned out all right?" Draco asked as they began walking up the street towards the park.

"Yeah. Hermione's gone away on a trip and she just needed help with some stuff before she left."

Draco was silent for a moment. "Do your friends know I'm staying at my aunt's?"

Harry hesitated. "Well ... Hermione and Ron know."

"I hope they won't tell anyone. I don't want anyone to know where I am." He looked worried.

Harry stared at him. "They won't tell anyone," he said. "Are you worried about ... people bothering you?" he asked carefully after a moment.

Draco shrugged and looked away.

"Who cursed you the other day?" Harry asked softly.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

Draco looked at him but didn't say anything.

"Was it someone I know?"

After a moment Draco nodded.

"Tell me."

Draco sighed. "Ernie Macmillan," he finally said. "And some of his friends."

Harry was angry. "They had no right."

"I'm sure they felt they had every right," Draco said.

"The was is over. And you were pardoned."

"Only because you testified at my trial." He looked at Harry. "Why did you?" he asked.

"Because you weren't serving him willingly."

Draco frowned. "What makes you say that? How would you know?"

They had reached the park. "We shouldn't talk about it here," Harry said. "There are things I can tell you, but later - not here, not around Teddy."

Draco stared at him, still frowning. Then he nodded. "All right. Later then."

They took the path around the pond. Draco was quiet. He kept looking at Harry, and Harry couldn't help looking back at him. When they got about halfway around, Teddy started to fuss. There was a bench up ahead so they stopped and sat down.

Draco took Teddy out of the stroller and settled him on his lap, facing out so he could look at the ducks. Teddy sat back contentedly and watched them, and Harry and Draco shared a smile. It was nice, being at the park, the three of them together. Draco seemed more relaxed now, and the mood between them was more peaceful than it had ever been. They took a few turns conjuring bubbles for Teddy, to the baby's delight, then Draco conjured coloured puffs of smoke, something Harry remembered seeing his father do for him in Voldemort's memory when Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow to kill him as a baby.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, frowning.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing, it's fine," he said.

Draco looked at him searchingly.

"It just brought back a weird memory, but I don't want to talk about it."

Draco nodded after a moment. "Okay."

"Will you teach me that spell?" Harry asked, determined not to let the memory get the better of him.

Draco taught him the incantation and Harry tried it a few times. He wouldn't let Voldemort ruin anything more in his life.

They stayed on the bench for a while, conjuring bubbles and puffs of smoke for Teddy, and Draco showed Harry how to make them spin around in a circle. Eventually, Teddy began to get restless so Draco put him back in the stroller and they resumed their walk around the pond. When they made it to the end, they checked the time. It was just after eleven.

"We should go back, I guess," Draco said. "Teddy's due for his bottle."

They left the park and started making their way down the street back to Andromeda's house.

"My aunt is going to ask you to stay for lunch," Draco said, looking at Harry. "Will you?"

"Oh. I don't think I can. I have to be at Hogwarts at one. They're starting to rebuild now and McGonagall asked if I could come help." He paused. "She's asking for anyone who wants to volunteer to help with the rebuilding process to come. You could come too."

Draco's face shuttered. "I can't, Potter. They wouldn't want me there."

"What if McGonagall says it's okay?"

"Even if she did, I'm sure no one else would agree. Most people think I should be dead or in Azkaban."

Harry touched his arm. "I know it's bad right now," he said softly, "and it might take time for things to really change, but if people see you helping to rebuild the school, that would help."

"I can't," Draco said, averting his eyes.

"All right," Harry said after a moment. "I won't push." He looked at Draco. "But will you think about it?"

Draco gave a short nod.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. When they got to the door, Draco asked, "You don't have to leave yet, do you?"

"No, I can stay a little while longer."

The door opened suddenly. "Oh good, you're back," Andromeda said with a smile. "It's almost time for Teddy's bottle. Come in, boys, I've just made some tea."

As Draco had predicted, Andromeda invited Harry to have lunch with them. He declined, explaining that he had to go to Hogwarts to help out, but he did stay for a cup of tea. They had it in the sitting room. It was a somewhat uncomfortable experience because Narcissa was there and she watched him and Draco very closely the whole time. Andromeda kept the conversation going, sticking to safe and neutral topics, but it was still awkward. When it was time for him to get going, Draco walked him outside. Once they were alone, Draco said, "I know you feel weird around my mother."

"Well, yeah - a little," Harry said honestly. "I don't know what she thinks of me."

"She thinks you saved our lives," Draco said. "She hated the Dark Lord in the end. She's grateful that you got rid of him." He looked at Harry seriously. "She knows you saved me from the Fiendfyre."

"Oh."

"I ... um ... wanted to thank you for that," Draco said. "You could have left me to die ... but you didn't." His expression was solemn. "And then later, you saved me again. That was you, wasn't it - you Stunned the Death Eater. I couldn't see you but I heard Weasley - he said that was the second time you saved my life that night."

"Yeah, I Stunned the Death Eater," Harry said quietly. "Ron's the one who punched you."

"Why did you do it?" Draco asked.

"Because I knew you weren't willingly serving Voldemort, and I didn't want you to get hurt."

"How could you know that? You keep saying you know things but how?"

"It's too much to get into right now. I'll tell you, but it has to be later."

"When?"

"I'll probably be at Hogwarts the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow? We could meet somewhere. I don't want to talk about it here. It has to be in private."

"Okay. Where do you want to meet? What time?"

"I don't know. I'll probably be going back to Hogwarts again to help out. I can send you an owl when I know what my day will be like tomorrow."

"Okay," Draco said.

Harry checked the time. It was a quarter to twelve. "I better go."

Draco nodded. "Okay."

"So ... I'll see you tomorrow?"

Draco nodded again. He looked shy suddenly.

Harry gazed at him through his lashes. There was a definite vibe between them now. "Bye," he said softly. Then he Apparated home.

After having a light lunch of soup and a sandwich, Harry went up to his bedroom to change into clothes he could work in. At half-past twelve, he Apparated to Hogsmeade then walked to Hogwarts. McGonagall was in the Entrance Hall, speaking to a group of volunteers and giving them instructions.

"Oh, Potter, you're here," she said when she saw him. "Thank you for coming. As you can see, there is a lot to do," she said briskly.

"How can I help?" Harry asked.

She put him to work in the classrooms. He spent the next two hours helping to get them back in order, repairing desks and chairs and sorting through the broken items and fixing what he could. It felt good. It was cathartic. The damage to the castle was extensive, but they were making good progress, and that was satisfying.

When he took a break, he found himself going up to the seventh floor, to check on the Room of Requirement. He wanted to see what condition it was in. Steeling himself for whatever he might find inside, he paced in front of the stretch of wall where the room was and thought, _I need the place where everything is hidden_. The door appeared after a few paces and he went in.

It was a wreck. Most of what had been in there had burned to ash though, surprisingly, not everything had been destroyed. He decided to try something: he closed his eyes and wished for everything that couldn't be salvaged to be cleared away. When he opened his eyes, the room had transformed. All the ash and rubble had disappeared, and what remained were the items that hadn't been touched or destroyed in the fire. He was beyond pleased. Even if most of what had been there was now gone, at least the room had been restored to some semblance of order, and the magic of the room still seemed to be working properly.

He wondered suddenly about the Chamber of Secrets - had the entrance remained open after Ron and Hermione left it? Had anyone else gone down there? He decided to go and see.

Putting on his Invisibility Cloak, which he'd brought just in case, he left the Room of Requirement and made his way to the girls' bathroom on the first floor. The sink was in place, he noticed right away; the entrance - at least the one from the bathroom - was closed.

He felt a strong impulse to go down and look at the Chamber anyway. He would have to be very careful not to get caught; turning to the door, he cast a Locking Charm on it then cast an Imperturbable Charm, then he turned back to the tap. :: _**Open**_ :: he hissed in Parseltongue. When he got down to the Chamber he took the Cloak off and began to investigate. The Chamber was pretty much as he'd left it, though the Basilisk had decomposed and was now just a skeleton. There were some fangs left; Hermione and Ron hadn't taken them all. He decided to take one.

He could use it to threaten Voldemort. He would see if threatening to stab the portrait with it would have any effect on him. If Voldemort seemed to fear it, Harry would know that he could destroy the portrait with it as a last resort. He thought of Tom - he couldn't destroy the portrait because it would destroy Tom. But he could use the threat to keep Voldemort in line. After carefully removing a fang and stowing it in his rucksack, Harry put his Invisibility Cloak back on, then unshrunk his broom. He flew out of the Chamber and returned to the girls' bathroom. Once he was out, the sink slid back into place. He checked the bathroom door, and was relieved to see that it still appeared to be locked. No one would know he'd gone down there.

Just as he was about to leave, Myrtle appeared.

"Who's here?" she asked. "I know someone is in here."

Harry hesitated for a moment, and considered trying to sneak past her. But then she moved, getting in front of the door and blocking the exit. There was no getting around it; he'd have to talk to her. He sighed inwardly then took off the Cloak. "Hi, Myrtle," he said.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Harry." She peered at him and cocked her head to the side. "But ... you're different now. There's something different about you - something new ..."

He frowned. What did she mean by that? "Different how?" he asked.

She studied him for a long moment then swooped close to him. "It's peculiar. There's an aura around you, I can see it. And it feels ... almost like you're a ghost. Have you died? Have you come to share my toilet?"

"Um ... well ... I _did_ kind of die," he said, "but then I came back to life. I'm just here at Hogwarts to help out today."

She came even closer then reached out to touch him. Instead of her hand going through him, her touch was alarmingly solid. "Oh!" she cried. "How strange!" she whispered, gripping his arm. "It's so peculiar. I can't touch people who are living and I can't touch other ghosts - but I can touch you. How lovely!" Without warning, she launched herself at him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

Harry tried to get out of her grasp. "Myrtle," he said in a choked voice. "Let go!"

She loosened her grip and he broke free. "I haven't hugged anyone in over fifty years," she said, pouting.

He stared at her in bewilderment. Was she able to touch him because he had briefly died? Or - the thought came suddenly - was it because he was the master of Death?

"I haven't seen you since you tried to kill that boy and now you're being mean to me." She started crying.

"I'm not," Harry said. "And I didn't try to kill Draco. That was an accident."

"There was blood everywhere. It was horrible," she said with relish. "I thought he was going to die." She looked pleased by the thought.

"He didn't die ... and it was an accident," Harry said firmly.

"And now you won't let me hug you," she said sorrowfully. Her eyes filled with silver tears.

Harry wanted to get out of there but he was worried that she knew he'd come from the Chamber and he didn't want her to tell anyone. He would have to be extra nice to her. He sighed. "All right, you can hug me. For a second."

She squealed and threw her arms around him. "Well?" she said when he just stood there. "Aren't you going to hug me back?"

"Fine," he muttered, gingerly putting an arm around her and patting her shoulder awkwardly. "Okay, that's enough," he said after a moment.

She pulled away, giggling.

"I have to go," Harry said. "I just came in to say hello, but I'm supposed to be helping to clean up."

"Will you visit me again?"

"If I can," he said.

"I have a new friend. He's hiding now but maybe next time you'll see him."

"A new friend?" Harry asked quizzically.

"Yes. He died during the battle and sometimes he comes in here to visit me. His name is Colin."

"Colin Creevey?" Harry said in a choked voice. "He's a ghost?"

She nodded.

Harry felt sick. "Are there any other new ghosts here since the battle?"

"A few," she said. "But I don't really know them yet. They're mostly still hiding."

Harry was shocked; he hadn't considered before that some of the people who died in the battle might stick around as ghosts. He stared at Myrtle. "Are any of the ghosts called Fred Weasley?" he asked quietly.

"No. I remember him. He died but he's not a ghost."

Harry was silent for a moment. He wondered who the other ghosts were. "Why do some people become ghosts and others don't?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know." She smiled at Harry. " _I_ stayed to haunt Olive Hornsby."

"But she's long gone now," he said. "Don't you want to go to the place where you're supposed to go when you die?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Where do the others go when they die?"

"My mother told me there is a plane where souls reside."

She looked thoughtful.

"Well ... anyway, I better go," he said. "But I'll come back to visit you again." He walked to the door and unlocked it. "See you later."

After he left the bathroom he returned to the classrooms and got back to work.

At half-past five he walked to Hogsmeade then Apparated home, straight into his bedroom. The first thing he did was hide the Basilisk fang in the bottom of the wardrobe with the books from Voldemort's vault. He got out a change of clothes, then went down to the bathroom and took a shower. Afterwards, he went down to the kitchen and had dinner.

When he finished eating, he went up to his bedroom to send an owl to Draco. After Summoning some parchment, an envelope and a quill he wrote:

_Draco,_

_I'll be helping out at Hogwarts again tomorrow but if you want we could meet afterwards. How about 7 o'clock? Name the place and I'll meet you there._

_Harry_

He sent Athena off with it, then went to talk to Tom.

The painting was in the bedroom next to his; Harry went in and closed the door, then cast an Imperturbable Charm and a Muffliato Charm. He walked over to the bed and sat down on it, then looked at Tom.

Tom's expression was unreadable. He stared at Harry for several seconds then finally said, "Why have you banished me to this room?"

"After what Voldemort did, I needed space," Harry answered.

Tom's face darkened at his words. "I will kill him for what he did to you," he said fiercely. "I promise you that."

"You've killed enough people already," Harry said coldly.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "And I regret it, as you know," he said. "But Voldemort is different - "

"Maybe you regret it, and maybe you don't, it doesn't matter - I don't want to hear you talk about wanting to kill anyone else, not even Voldemort."

Tom stared at him then huffed out a breath. "So we're back to this then," he said. "Back to you doubting me. That's why you've been avoiding me."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me ask you something. If Voldemort could use the link to do what he did, what have _you_ been doing with it?"

"You think I'm using the link in some diabolical way? What exactly do you think I'm doing with it?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe you've been lying to me all along and you've been using the link to project what you want to project, to manipulate me."

"You think I've been lying to you? You think when I've bared myself to you and opened my side of the link it's all just been a _false projection_?"

"I don't know. It seems like exactly the kind of thing you'd do."

"I can't believe this!" Tom hissed. He looked outraged. "I have been my true self with you, you have no idea!"

"You lied to me about Draco and Narcissa," Harry said coolly. "Or at least, you didn't tell me the truth when I asked."

Tom's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because I knew they would take advantage of you and that you would let them, if you knew," he said. "And that's what's happening now, isn't it?"

"Why would you even care?"

"Don't play dumb," Tom said, his eyes flashing. "It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not playing anything," Harry said. "You're the one who's trying to play me."

"I am not."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"These suspicions are tiresome." Tom's voice was cold. "I have been genuine with you, and I think you know it. Your fear is making you paranoid."

Harry raised a brow. "My fear?"

"Yes. You're afraid, so you're trying to convince yourself that I'm being false with you."

Harry stared at him. "You think I'm afraid? Of what?"

"Of what's been happening between us," Tom said matter-of-factly. It was surprisingly direct.

Harry gave him a challenging look. "And what's that? What's been happening between us?"

"You know," Tom said angrily. "Don't pretend you don't."

"No, I don't know," Harry said. "I have no idea what's real and what's not."

"You do. You're just afraid to believe it."

Harry shrugged. "Or everything has just been a big lie and you've been manipulating me this whole time."

"Enough!" Tom hissed. "I know that what Voldemort did to you has shaken you, but I've had enough of these accusations. It hasn't been easy for me either. Since it happened, I have had to endure Voldemort tormenting me at every opportunity, and now you're being like this after avoiding me and banishing me to this room. How do you think that makes me feel? I have been genuine with you. What's between us is genuine and you know it! I won't endure you pretending otherwise."

Harry could feel his anger and indignation through the link. "How has Voldemort been tormenting you?" he asked.

"He has been filling my mind with certain images," Tom said shortly.

"Images of what?"

"What do you think?" Tom snapped. "Of him and you together. Of him having you over and over - and you enjoying it."

Harry was horrified. "That's disgusting!"

"Yes, it is. And you need to watch out because he genuinely desires you now and when he wants something, he'll stop at nothing to have it. What he did to you yesterday - he'll do it again, at the first opportunity."

Harry felt sick. "This is a nightmare," he said, turning away.

"I can help you," Tom said. "I can, if you let me."

"How?"

Tom paused. "You're not going to like it," he warned.

Harry scowled. "Just tell me."

"If your connection with me is made stronger than your connection with him, I can block him from invading your mind."

"Right. Of course." He stared at Tom. "That would certainly work out for you, wouldn't it?"

"Harry - "

"That's the real reason why you've wanted to open the link and help me with all those meditations, isn't it?" he said slowly. "You've been trying to make our connection stronger."

"It's not for a nefarious purpose," Tom said quietly.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, right."

"Look, I understand why that would scare you, but there are things you don't know, and I'm - "

"What don't I know?"

When Tom didn't answer, Harry got angry. "Tell me right now or I'm leaving."

"You wouldn't believe me," Tom said.

"Tell me anyway!" Harry yelled.

"I think it's something you have to discover for yourself."

"You can't keep doing this - you can't keep lying to me and keeping things from me! Tell me what you know. Now!" Harry shouted.

"Fine!" Tom bit out, aggravated. "You and I are bound together more than you realise. But you're bound to Voldemort too. It's very complicated and I'm still trying to figure it out."

"What does that mean? How are we bound together?"

Tom was silent.

"Answer me!"

"We share more than a mind link," Tom said reluctantly. "There is a soul link too. And that's all I can tell you."

"A soul link? What - because I was a Horcrux?"

"No. It has nothing to do with that."

"Then explain."

"Stop pushing me!" Tom growled. "I've told you as much as I can right now. I'm still trying to figure it out myself."

They stared at each other.

"The more pressing issue at the moment is what to do about Voldemort," Tom said. "You need to protect yourself from his mental invasions. Did you visit the portrait today?"

"Yes. I went in and counted to three then I left."

Tom nodded. "Good. When you visit in the future, make sure you never look him in the eyes - the connection is strongest when you do."

"And it's the same with us, isn't it - with you and me? The connection is strongest when we're looking at each other."

"Yes, for the most part," Tom said carefully. "But Voldemort's connection with you is stronger." He gazed at Harry, his eyes intent. "I can help you if you let me."

"I don't need your help. I'm handling it. I'm not going to let my guard down again and I'll only be visiting the portrait for a second every day."

"And what if he can still get to you - from a distance?"

"You think he can?"

"It's possible. When he did his final enchantments on the portrait, he performed a ritual - a blood ritual, using your blood - which forged a stronger mental link between you."

Harry stared at him. "And you're only telling me this now?"

"I've been trying to help you. I've been trying to close the link between you and him. I didn't tell you before because I knew you would react badly and I thought I could fix it."

Harry was furious. "How dare you keep that from me! It's not for you to decide what I should know or not know! You say you're being real with me and that you've been trying to help me, but look at what you're doing - you're trying to manipulate everything behind the scenes, without me knowing!"

"I didn't think you'd understand. You're so suspicious of me; I thought if you knew it would only make things worse."

"I would have been less suspicious if you'd told me! What am I supposed to think now, knowing you've kept this from me? You kept the truth about Draco and Narcissa from me. You say we're bound together by a soul link but you won't tell me anything more about it. And now this. How do you expect me to believe you're being real with me if all you do is lie and keep things from me?"

"I _am_ being real with you," Tom said. "And if I've kept things from you, I'm trying to tell you about them _now_."

Harry let out a harsh breath. Despite everything, he couldn't help but believe that Tom was telling the truth. But whenever he was near Tom he couldn't seem to keep a clear head. He didn't know what to think anymore. "You are so frustrating," he said. He flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I am trying, Harry," Tom said quietly. "I've never been connected to someone like this before. I am trying to be honest with you. And I am being real with you, more than I've ever been with anyone."

Harry sighed. Tom sounded so earnest. He couldn't help but believe him. It was foolish of him, but ... Tom was very convincing. After a long silence, he spoke. "I saw Myrtle today," he said.

"What?"

Harry turned his head and looked at him. "They've started reconstruction at Hogwarts. I went to help out today and I saw Myrtle."

"She's still haunting the school?"

"Yes." Harry sat up. "Will you show me your memory now?"

Tom looked uncomfortable. "If that's what you wish," he said tersely.

Harry nodded. "It is."

Tom hesitated for a moment then took out his wand. He drew out the memory then cast the spell.

The memory began:

Tom was in the girls' bathroom, calling forth the Basilisk. :: _**Come**_ :: he hissed in Parseltongue.

As the Basilisk emerged from the pipe, Harry immediately tried to tap into the connection, wanting to know what Tom was thinking and feeling. He could feel Tom's anger and sense of righteousness. He focused harder, and got a flash of Tom's thoughts. Tom was thinking, _The Mudbloods might as well be Muggles_. Harry could feel his hatred. _If I die in the orphanage this summer, at least I'll have done this, at least I'll have rid the school of some of them_.

Suddenly Myrtle came out from the stall. :: _**Kill her**_ :: Tom hissed. The Basilisk moved towards her. Tom watched, fascinated, as she looked the serpent in the eye then fell to the floor, dead. He looked a bit shocked for a moment, then his expression changed. Harry could feel his triumph and satisfaction.

The memory ended.

Harry stared at Tom.

Tom stared back at him.

"Do you even care that you murdered her?" Harry finally asked.

"I didn't then but I do now."

"Why?"

Tom frowned. "I told you - it was what started Voldemort on his path. And it tainted my soul."

"But what about Myrtle? Do you feel anything for _her_ \- any guilt at all? She was a person."

"Let me ask you something," Tom said suddenly. "Do you feel guilty for killing Quirrell?"

"What?"

"When you were eleven years old, _you_ took a life, Harry. You killed Quirrell. Do you feel guilty about it?"

"I didn't kill him. Voldemort did."

"Is that what you think? It was you who killed him. You touched him and you saw what that did to him, and then you grabbed hold of him and didn't let go until he was dead."

"It was self-defense!"

"It might have been self-defense but the fact remains that you killed someone. I can feel you judging me. But we did a lot of the same things. We have both killed. We both secretly led and trained our respective followers and taught them magic; we both created our own armies - "

"If you're talking about the DA, that was very different from what you did."

"Were you or were you not the leader of a group that you taught magic to - in secret?"

"You can't compare it! For one thing, they weren't my followers. And I wasn't teaching them the Dark Arts. We formed out of necessity. You did it because you wanted power."

"Maybe so, but think about it: we both killed, we both led our groups and taught them magic, we both had an army of followers - whether you see it that way or not doesn't matter; you had it. We might have had different motivations, but we followed a similar path."

Harry stared at him. "There might be similarities when you put it like that, but my path was very different from yours. You _chose_ to do what you did; I was forced into it."

"Yes. You were on the side of the Light and I was on the side of the Dark ... but we were two sides of the same coin. Do you see?"

"I don't know." He could sort of see it ... if he looked at it the way Tom did.

Tom was gazing at him intently.

Harry wanted to talk about the memory. "Why did you think you might die at the orphanage?"

Tom's face darkened. "Because the Muggles were at war. Bombs were being dropped all over London and I was stuck in the middle of it. The summer before fifth year, we almost got hit by one. It came really close. I thought I was going to die that night."

Harry frowned. "Will you show me your memory of it?"

Tom's expression immediately shuttered. "I would prefer not to," he said tightly.

"Why?"

Tom didn't answer for a moment. Finally he said, "Because it shows me at a very weak and vulnerable moment."

"You've seen my weakest and most vulnerable moments," Harry said reasonably.

Tom gave a vexed sigh.

"Please?"

"I know I owe you another memory but can't you pick something else?" Tom said. He looked agitated.

"I want to know what happened. Please?"

Tom huffed out a breath. He stared at Harry for a long time. "If I share this with you, you'd better stop doubting me, because this is as real as it gets."

Harry nodded.

Tom hesitated for several seconds. Then, finally, he raised his wand and pressed the tip to his temple. He closed his eyes in concentration and drew out the memory then cast the spell.

The memory began:

The children were in what looked to be the cellar of the orphanage. There were rows of beds filling the room and the children were sitting on them quietly. Tom was reading a book by candlelight, his face tense. Suddenly there was the sound of an aeroplane. Everyone froze. The sound got closer and then closer, and then it was overhead. Mrs Cole whispered urgently, "Under your beds. Now!"

Tom scrambled to get under his bed. Harry could feel his terror. A moment later, a deafening explosion rent through the air. The building shook violently. Everyone screamed. It was chaos. Tom was shaking, gasping for breath. Harry caught a flash of Tom's thoughts: _Please, if there is a God, don't let me die_. Mrs Cole shouted, "Don't move! Stay where you are!" There was another thunderous explosion and the building shook again. Dust fell in a cloud from the ceiling and filled the room. There were several bangs and crashing sounds from overhead then sirens began to wail. Tom was curled in a defensive position, his whole body trembling. Many of the children were shrieking and crying but Tom remained frozen in fear, his eyes squeezed shut in terror. Mrs Cole shouted, "Is anyone hurt?" Things had fallen from the shelves and a few children had been pelted with debris. After a few minutes, it seemed the immediate danger had passed. Some of the children came out from under their beds but Tom didn't move. Harry could feel his shock and horror and his panic that it wasn't over - Tom was immobilised, his body tensed; he was sure it would happen again any moment. Harry could see he was really traumatised. Even when the pandemonium began to die down, Tom still didn't move. He seemed to be in shock.

Harry felt his heart clench. It was awful, seeing him like that.

The memory ended abruptly.

Tom looked quite pale and Harry could see he was shaken. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I'm fine," Tom said sharply, turning away.

In an instant, Harry understood: this was Tom's worst memory. And he had shared it with Harry. He had let Harry see him in his most vulnerable moment, and that was no small thing. "How long was it like that?" he asked. "The whole summer?"

"It was like that for years, not just one summer," Tom spat. "I lived in that cellar every summer from 1941 on. The last summer I spent there was in 1944. No other bombs hit as closely as the one in the memory I just showed you but London was under attack the whole time I was there."

"That's terrible," Harry said, his heart going out to him. He gazed at Tom. "That's why you're so afraid of death," he said quietly. "Isn't it?" He got up off the bed and went over to the painting and sat down in front of it.

Tom sat down too. He looked at Harry. "Yes," he said. "Being trapped in the middle of that Muggle war and thinking I was going to die every summer - I feared death after that."

"And that's why you hate Muggles so much. Because you felt powerless against them."

"Yes," Tom hissed, looking angry.

Harry felt he understood Tom so much better now. And he felt angry on Tom's behalf. "I can't believe they wouldn't let you stay at Hogwarts during the summers. How could they make you go back to the orphanage when things were like that?"

"They didn't care," Tom said bitterly.

Harry felt a fresh wave of anger towards Dumbledore. Tom had been abandoned to the Muggle world and bullied at the orphanage before Hogwarts, then he'd been forced to go back there every summer when a war was waging, and he'd had no way to protect himself ... and Dumbledore did nothing to help him. And the reason why was because when Dumbledore had visited Tom in the orphanage, he'd listened to Mrs Cole's account of him and decided the boy was wicked - a tormentor of other children, a liar and a thief, and a Parselmouth on top of it - and he'd never bothered to look any closer. He'd been biased against Tom from the start.

Tom was staring at him and Harry knew he was reading him through the link. He could feel Tom too - he could feel his rage and his sadness and his deep unhappiness. It made Harry's heart clench. "I'm sorry you were so alone in the world," he said softly.

"I don't want your pity!" Tom hissed.

"It's not pity," Harry said. "It's understanding. It's caring that that happened to you, that it was like that for you."

Tom stared at him intently, reading him. His expression softened after a moment.

And then Harry felt a rush of warmth come flooding through the link.

They continued gazing at one another. The warmth intensified, and Harry had a sudden realisation: one couldn't fabricate and project a feeling one had never felt. Tom couldn't be faking it; it would be impossible. So, that meant it was real. The feeling coming through the link was real.

"It _is_ real," Tom murmured.

Harry frowned. "Are you reading my thoughts?"

"Yes."

The way Tom said it made Harry's stomach flip. It was so intimate.

"How come I can't read yours?" Harry asked.

"You could if you focused more."

"Can you read Voldemort's thoughts?"

Tom's face clouded. "Sometimes."

"Do you know what he's planning?"

"His original plan was to convince you to resurrect him and then to kill you afterwards. Now he wants you to resurrect him and become his Consort."

Harry shuddered. "How can he even think that would be possible? He actually thinks he can convince me to resurrect him?"

"Don't underestimate him. He is a master at mental manipulation."

"But what could he do?"

"He could take hold of your mind, for example, and keep you prisoner until he broke you. I won't let that happen. But if I weren't here, he could do it."

Harry stared at him, aghast. "You said you've been trying to close the link between him and me?"

Tom nodded. "It has not been as effective as I'd hoped."

"Why not?"

"Because his connection to you is stronger than mine and there's only so much I can do."

"And you think if your connection to me is stronger than his, you can block him?"

"Yes."

"You've been trying to do that already - to make the connection stronger - with the meditations," Harry said, wanting Tom to confirm it.

"Yes," Tom said evenly.

"And you did it without my knowledge or consent," Harry said angrily.

Tom bowed his head. "If I had told you before now though, would you have agreed to it?" He gazed at Harry. "Will you agree to it now?"

Harry sighed. He felt he didn't really have a choice. "I'd rather have a stronger connection with you than Voldemort." He gave Tom a severe look. "I hate that you manipulated me. You say you respect me, but - "

"I _do_ respect you," Tom said. He frowned. "Can you not see that?"

"When you respect someone, you don't keep things from them and you don't manipulate them."

"You respect your friends - Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. You don't keep anything from them? You tell them everything?"

"Yes. For the most part."

"But there are exceptions, are there not?"

"It's not the same," Harry said. "Look, just be honest with me from now on. I know you're used to operating a certain way but you don't have to be like that with me. I don't like being manipulated. I got enough of that from Dumbledore."

"I'm being as honest as I know how to be," Tom said.

Harry sighed. That was probably true.

"I have been genuinely trying to help you with meditation and wandless magic - yes, I was also trying to strengthen our connection, but it wasn't just about that. You're very powerful, and I want to help you realise your potential. Plus I've seen you lose control of your magic three times already - I want to help you with that."

"You _have_ helped me," Harry acknowledged. "I can do some spells wandlessly now, which I couldn't do before. And I appreciate your help. I just don't want you to manipulate me or do things to me without my consent anymore."

Tom inclined his head. "All right," he said. "I will try to be more up front about things. I will ask you then - will you consent to me strengthening our connection so I can help you with Voldemort?"

Harry stared at him. "You're asking me to trust you. That's asking a lot."

"I know."

Harry was silent. What choice did he have? He didn't trust Tom, but he trusted him more than he trusted Voldemort. "All right," he finally said. "I will consent to it. How does it work?"

"We could try something now," Tom said. "I can show you."

Harry hesitated. "Okay," he said after a moment. "What should I do?"

"Take the painting down and lean it against the wall," Tom said. "We need to be at eye level." Harry obeyed, then Tom said, "Now sit down in front of me."

Harry sat down then looked at him.

"Ready?" Tom said.

"Yeah, okay."

"Keep looking at me, into my eyes. Take a deep breath," Tom instructed softly.

Harry inhaled deeply then he slowly exhaled, his eyes on Tom's.

"Feel yourself relaxing and getting into a deeper and deeper state of relaxation as you hear my voice." Tom's eyes were mesmerising and his voice was hypnotic. He continued to guide Harry to a state of deeper relaxation for a few minutes, then he said, "Now, go to your magical core. Feel it, access it," he murmured. "That's right, just like that. Now focus, Harry, and try to feel mine - try to feel _my_ magical core."

Harry focused, trying to feel it.

"Deeper," Tom murmured. "Go deeper. There," he said after a moment. "That's it. Do you feel it?"

"I only feel mine," Harry said.

"No, that's my magical core you're feeling," Tom said softly.

"Are you sure? It feels like mine ..."

"I know it does," Tom said. "I told you, our magical cores feel very similar."

"If that's your magical core I'm feeling, it feels exactly the same."

"I know," Tom murmured, and Harry felt a rush of warmth from him. "Now focus on your magical core for a moment. Yes, there, just like that. Now focus on mine. Good," he said. "Now focus on them both at the same time. Feel them together ..."

And Harry could feel it - his own magical core and Tom's, humming in unison. "Wow," he said.

"Feel them aligning," Tom said and he sounded a bit breathless now. "Feel the connection between us ..."

Harry felt it. It was incredible. It felt like their magical cores were harmonising with each other, and becoming attuned to each other.

"Yes," Tom breathed. "Just like that ... keep focusing on it ..."

The humming intensified. Harry felt like his body was vibrating. "Merlin!" he gasped.

"It's all right," Tom said, but he sounded equally affected. "Go with it, don't resist ... let it happen ..."

The humming got stronger, then it began to buzz. It should have been frightening but it wasn't. Harry could feel their connection, and the warmth between them, and it felt amazing. The buzzing increased sharply but Harry didn't resist it. He felt it getting stronger and stronger, until his whole being felt like it was vibrating.

"God, this is intense," Tom gasped.

"Yeah ..." It was intense, but it felt good. After a minute, the buzzing began to equalise. It reverberated through the link, strong and steady. Harry felt strangely euphoric.

"That's it," Tom murmured. "We did it."

Harry could feel him even more strongly now. He felt so connected with him. It was intoxicating.

Tom looked rapturous.

Harry felt a wave of euphoria come through the connection. It washed over him, and he felt his eyes closing. He felt drunk, dreamy. The euphoria was coming from both sides, and it was intense. "I need to lie down," he mumbled. His body felt heavy.

"Get on the bed," he heard Tom say.

He got up and went over to the bed then lay down. His eyes fluttered closed. "Sleepy," he mumbled.

"It's okay," he heard Tom say. "Go to sleep, Harry. It's all right."

"Okay," he murmured, then he drifted off and fell into a deep sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hello everyone! I know it's been a long time since I last updated, but I just want you all to know this story will never be abandoned, no matter how long it takes. Sometimes life gets in the way or I have writer's block, but I fully intend to finish this story.**
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> **If you read the story a while ago, please be aware that I've gone back and edited the past chapters (especially over the past few days), adding and/or expanding on things that were needed, so it might be worth it to read it again to get properly caught up.**

 

Harry woke at dawn. He'd slept deeply, dreamlessly. Stretching, he turned his head and looked over at the painting.

Tom wasn't there, but Harry could still feel the connection between them. Whatever it was they did the night before, it had worked; his connection with Tom was much stronger than it was before.

What exactly  _had_ they done? A meditation? A ritual? He could feel Tom through the link, even though Tom was absent. He felt something else: a warm glow emanating from the centre of his magical core. It felt  _good_ , pleasurable. It was brilliant. He felt amazing.

The need to relieve himself became apparent, so he got up and went down to the bathroom. After using the facilities, he went down to the kitchen and got a glass of water then returned upstairs to the third floor, to his bedroom. He'd left the window open all night and it was a little cold, so he put a jumper on.

Athena hooted at him, and he saw she had a message.

It was from Draco. It read:

_Potter,_

_7 o'clock is fine. Can we meet outside my Aunt's house?_

_Draco_

After penning a reply, confirming that he'd be there, Harry sent Athena off with it, then laid down on his bed. He felt really good, still a bit euphoric from the night before. At the same time, he was thinking now about what Tom had told him about Voldemort. The Dark Lord was still dangerous. He was still very much a threat, and it was worse than Harry could have imagined. Could Voldemort really take hold of Harry's mind and keep him prisoner until Harry broke? Considering what he'd already managed to do, it seemed very possible. Was the newly strengthened connection with Tom strong enough now for Tom to stop Voldemort from doing anything like that again?

And what about Tom? Now that Harry was thinking about it, he was starting to wonder ... what else could Tom do with the connection? Had Harry made a mistake trusting him? What if the whole thing was a manipulation and Harry had just played into his hands?

Merlin, he hadn't even had the portrait for a week and look at where he was at - he'd done some kind of ritual or exercise that resulted in him having a stronger connection to Tom than he'd already had. And look what Voldemort had done to him - Harry was very inexperienced and had only ever snogged Ginny, nothing more; he was a virgin but now he had a much more tangible idea of what sex was, and what it felt like. It was essentially rape what Voldemort had done to him - a mental rape of sorts, but Harry had felt it as if it had been real. He shuddered, remembering Voldemort's overwhelming lust, and how he'd been frozen and powerless as the Dark Lord violated him.  _No_. He didn't want to think about it. He felt sick.  _Stop thinking about it_ , he told himself sharply. It was over, and he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on it again.

He let out a breath, trying to clear his mind. Maybe he should meditate. He grabbed the meditation book from his bedside table and opened it to the third chapter, then picked out a simple meditation to try.

Perhaps all the meditations with Tom had helped because he found he was able to do the exercise pretty effectively, and he felt calmer after practising it for a few minutes. He went on to try another exercise, but this time he got so relaxed he fell asleep.

The next thing he knew, Kreacher was waking him up for breakfast.

After getting up, he checked the time. It was half past seven and he was due at Hogwarts at nine, so that would give him plenty of time to eat and shower, and get the visit with Voldemort out of the way. He decided he would get the visit out of the way first.

Out on the landing, Harry could hear raised voices upstairs. He crept up the stairs and listened unabashedly. "How  _dare_  you!" Voldemort was saying. He sounded furious. "You had no right. Potter is mine!"

"No, you're the one who has no right," Tom replied coldly.

"You besotted little  _fool_ ," Voldemort hissed, contemptuously. "You will pay for this."

"If anyone's going to pay, it will be you, for what you did to him," Tom said. "And I won't let you do it again. I have the power now to stop you."

Harry could feel Tom's triumph through the link.

"You think you have won," Voldemort said lowly, "but you are wrong. You cannot win against me, boy. I am stronger than you, more intelligent than you, and more powerful than you."

Tom snorted. "I know you really believe that," Tom said softly, "but that's only because you are insane. You are pathetic."

"Do not forget, I am more experienced than you, Riddle." The cold amusement in Voldemort's voice was more than a little menacing. "And I do not have your weakness. While it is true I do desire him, Harry Potter has no hold over me. I am not the one pining over him like a schoolgirl. You are the pathetic one."

"I don't care what you think," Tom snapped. "You are incapable of understanding anything beyond your own delusions, so your opinion is worthless to me."

There was a long silence, and Harry realised Tom must have left the portrait.

After another moment, Voldemort chuckled softly. "Oh little boy, you have much to learn," he said quietly, and that was more menacing than anything.

Harry didn't want Voldemort to know he'd overheard their conversation, so he waited for several beats then started making noise going up the stairs. When he entered the room, he glanced at the painting and said, "One, two, three. There's your visit for the day." As he turned to leave, Voldemort spoke.

"So you and Tom performed a bonding ritual." The Dark Lord's voice was silky. "How interesting."

"It's none of your business," Harry said.

"I wonder how Tom will use your new bond," Voldemort said musingly. "He used the initial link so successfully, after all ... who knows what he is planning now that you have let him get even closer."

Harry could see what Voldemort was trying to do; he refused to take the bait.

"It was very clever of him to convince you to do a bonding ritual," the Dark Lord continued pleasantly. "But then he is clever, I suppose."

Obviously Voldemort was trying to make Harry doubt Tom. But this time Harry wouldn't fall for it. "I'm done here," he said coldly. He left the room, closing the door firmly behind him, and went down to breakfast.

As he ate, he thought about the conversation he'd overheard between Voldemort and Tom. The Dark Lord had called Tom a besotted little fool and basically said Tom was pining over Harry. So at least Harry had confirmation now that the Slytherin really did have feelings for him. At the same time, it seemed that Voldemort had managed to plant a seed of doubt, after all - that bit about Tom using the initial link between them so successfully was ... a little worrying. What exactly had Voldemort meant by that?

 _Stop it_ , Harry told himself. Of course Voldemort would say something like that, something designed to make Harry suspicious. There was nothing to it.

After breakfast he took a shower, then got ready for his day. There was no time to see Tom before he left but he was a little relieved about that. So much had happened in such a short time, and he needed to put some distance between them.

At half-past eight, he Apparated to Hogsmeade. As he was walking to Hogwarts, he felt the Galleon from Hermione burning in his pocket. There was a message:

_Found my parents, restored their memories. Coming home day after tomorrow. Hope everything is ok._

He sent a reply back:

_I'm so happy you found them and were able to restore their memories. Everything is ok here. I'm helping at Hogwarts - we're rebuilding. Glad you're coming home soon._

He was beyond pleased that everything had worked out and she was coming home. On the other hand, he'd have to be really careful when she came back. Things had really accelerated since she left and now he'd strengthened his connection with Tom by doing a bonding ritual with him. Merlin, everything was happening so fast. He'd done a  _bonding ritual_  with Tom. And Hermione was sharp and didn't miss much; Harry would have to be especially careful not to act weird or give any hint that something strange was going on.

When Harry arrived at Hogwarts, he was sent to work in the classrooms again.

It felt good helping out. Harry needed it - to do something productive, to help fix what was broken. He was still feeling so much guilt for how long it took to defeat Voldemort and he still blamed himself for all the deaths and all the damage that the school sustained. At least the damage to the school could be fixed. And thankfully it wasn't going to take as long as Harry thought it might - repairing things magically was a much faster process than doing it the Muggle way. Harry had overheard someone say that the repairs should be completed within the next six weeks.

Harry also overheard that McGonagall was working on a plan to make up for the spotty education the students had received while Hogwarts had been under Voldemort's rule. Apparently O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students were going to have the option of doing an intensive summer session or they could choose to repeat their year if they felt they needed it. First through fourth year students were going to be tested at the start of the new school year to see what they needed to get caught up on. Harry wasn't ready to think about his schooling yet - it was too soon - but as he worked, he thought about it anyway. He had never been a great student so a summer session sounded better than a full school year. It would be quicker. But then again, was that really what he wanted? Hermione would probably want to do the full year. Shouldn't he be applying himself more? Maybe it was time to take his education more seriously.

At noon Harry took a break for lunch. When he got to the Great Hall, he was pleased to see Neville and Luna. After catching up with them for a few minutes, the three of them decided to go outside and eat lunch by the lake. As they ate the sandwiches that were provided by the school's house-elves, they talked about the past year - Neville and Luna told Harry more about what Hogwarts had been like under the Death Eaters' rule, and Harry told them a bit about what it had been like for him, Hermione, and Ron on the run. He didn't tell them about the Horcrux hunt; during the first few days after the Battle, when he and Hermione discussed what to tell everyone, they ultimately agreed no one should know about it, not even their closest friends. So what Harry told Neville and Luna was that Dumbledore had sent them on a mission to find certain objects that would help him defeat Voldemort.

"Like the diadem," Luna said softly. She had been the one who clued Harry in that it was the diadem he was looking for, when he was trying to figure out what the last Horcrux was.

"Exactly," Harry said. He looked at Neville. "And the sword of Gryffindor - we needed it to kill the snake. You're the one who it came to, Neville, and you were the one who was able to kill the snake. If it weren't for you - both of you," he said, looking from Neville to Luna, "if it weren't for your help, I couldn't have defeated Voldemort."

The conversation halted when they were interrupted by Professor Sprout, who came to ask Neville for help with the greenhouses. After Neville left with her, Luna turned to Harry and said, "You found the Hallows too, didn't you? I know you had the Cloak, but when did you find the others?"

Harry gulped. Sometimes Luna really surprised him. "Er, yes, I did find them ... but I only have the Cloak now."

Luna merely smiled. "I know you'll keep them safe, Harry," she said, her voice serene.

He stared at her.

"There are some who would kill for that power, and many who  _have_ killed in their pursuit of it," Luna said softly. "But you know that - that's why you're not telling anyone. Good idea."

How did Luna know these things? "Luna - " he began.

"Don't worry, Harry, I won't tell anyone."

Harry regarded her for a moment, then inclined his head. For some reason, in her strange way, Luna had always been able to see through him. He remembered how she had recognised him at Bill and Fleur's wedding, even though he'd been Polyjuiced and looked nothing like himself. "Thanks," he said quietly.

She patted his arm companionably. "Shall we get back to work?" she asked. "I'm helping to clean up the library, and there's still a lot to do."

As they walked back to the Great Hall, Harry thought about it and decided he didn't mind her knowing. He could trust Luna. He didn't quite understand her at times, but he knew he could trust her. They parted at the first floor stairs, Harry heading to the classrooms, and Luna continuing up the stairs to go to the library.

Back in the classrooms, Harry got to work. He and the other volunteers got a lot done as the afternoon wore on. By the end of the day they had nearly finished cleaning up and restoring all the classrooms on the first floor. Harry stayed behind after everyone left, wanting a moment to himself to survey what had been accomplished. Memories of the battle had been haunting him all day and he needed to take a breath, and take a minute to focus on the fact that at least Hogwarts itself would be okay, that all the damage would be fixed.

As he was heading down the corridor he stopped suddenly at Myrtle's bathroom, on impulse. When she saw him, she squealed and zoomed over to him, going straight in for a hug.

"Myrtle!" he huffed. "Let go!"

She giggled and pulled away.

"I came to ask about the new ghosts - Colin and the others," he said. "Have you seen any of them today?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven't seen any of them today - but I saw Colin last night after everyone was gone. He told me he was avoiding everyone and that he doesn't want to see anyone, not yet. He said he doesn't mind me, though," she said proudly.

Harry's heart sank. He couldn't imagine what Colin was going through.

_It was Harry's fault he was dead._

Swallowing thickly, Harry turned to go.

"You're leaving already?" Myrtle cried.

"Yeah, sorry, I have to go," Harry said.

Myrtle's face clouded, and she let out a sob. "You didn't come to visit  _me_  - you only wanted to ask about the others!"

"No, I have to be somewhere tonight, and I still have to walk to Hogsmeade," Harry said quickly, trying to stop Myrtle from wailing. "I don't want to be late."

She stopped crying. "Where are you going?" she asked.

Harry hesitated, but didn't see any harm in telling her. "I'm seeing Draco tonight."

"The boy you tried to kill!" she said, perking up.

"I didn't try to kill him," Harry said. "I told you, it was an accident."

"I'll walk with you to Hogsmeade," Myrtle said.

"You don't have to. That's a long way for you, isn't it?" Harry said quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I really need to get going." Not waiting for her to respond, Harry left the bathroom.

He made his way down the stairs and after saying goodbye to Professor McGonagall, he went outside and began the walk to Hogsmeade. As he walked he thought about Draco, and about Tom. There was going to be an intense discussion with Draco tonight, he knew - Draco wanted to know how Harry knew so much about him, and Harry would tell him as much of the truth as he could. He had no idea how it would be received. Would Draco handle it well? And there was another question: if Draco liked him, and Harry was sure he did, did that mean that tonight was a date or was it just a meeting to talk about things?

And what about Tom? Harry was well and truly infatuated with him, and now he had performed a bonding ritual with him. What the hell was he thinking? How did it get to this point so quickly - Harry only got the portrait six days ago. It was all happening so fast, and he was being swept along, swept away by it. It seemed that Tom's feelings for him were genuine at least, going by what Voldemort had said -  _but that shouldn't matter_ , Harry told himself sternly. He needed to be sensible. Things were getting out of control. Tom was confined to the portrait realm and there could be no possible future with him; Harry needed to hit the brakes and pull back. There could be no romantic relationship between him and Tom - it was impossible.

And yet, all Harry wanted right now was to go home and see Tom, to talk to him, to feel their bond. They were so connected, and Harry knew he would never feel that connected to anyone else, not in the way he did with Tom. He wished it could be like his dreams, where he and Tom were together, kissing blissfully and being so intimately close to each other. He imagined it for a moment, remembering the last dream he had where they had lain together on his bed, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, the feeling between them so warm and connected, and it made his heart flutter. Merlin, he needed to stop thinking about it - if it was true Tom was pining over him, he was just as bad.

Hogsmeade was just up ahead. Harry checked his watch; it was a few minutes past six o'clock. He'd have time to take a shower when he got home, but he probably wouldn't have enough time to eat dinner. Would Draco want to have dinner with him?

Harry reached the apparition point. Just a second before he Apparated, someone grabbed his arm, and he had no time to react as whoever it was got pulled along with him to Grimmauld Place.

When they landed and Harry saw who it was, he was shocked. "Myrtle!" he cried. "How - ? Why did you do that? How did you do that?"

Myrtle looked very pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure it would work ... but it did!" She looked around. "Where are we?" she asked.

"My bedroom," Harry said, outraged.

She giggled.

"What the hell, Myrtle?" he barked. This was unbelievable. "Why did you follow me?" He didn't give her time to answer. "You have to go back to Hogwarts! Now."

"No!" she cried. "Please don't be angry."

"You can't be here - "

"I wanted to be somewhere new," she said plaintively. "I've been at Hogwarts for over fifty years - stuck there, unable to go anywhere else." Her face crumpled for a moment, then brightened as she said, "But then I could touch you, so I thought ... maybe it would work if I went with you. And it worked. Don't make me go back!" she begged. "I can't go back by myself anyway ... and don't you have to meet that boy soon?"

"Damn it," he said. He didn't have time for this. "Stay here for a minute, I have to go do something. Don't follow me," he ordered sharply. He left his bedroom and went next door. Tom was in the painting. He frowned when he saw Harry. "What's wrong?" he started to say, but Harry interrupted him.

"Tom," he said quickly, urgently. "Glamour yourself! Myrtle followed me home and if she sees you she'll probably recognise you!"

Tom wandlessly cast a Glamour on himself, at the same time looking at Harry confusedly. "Myrtle is  _here_?" he asked. "How did she get here?"

"I'll explain later, okay? I don't have time right now. I'll be back later - if she comes in here don't let her see you," Harry said, then a horrible thought occured to him. "Oh my god - wait, ghosts can't see through the enchantments on the portrait, can they? What if she sees Voldemort?" A feeling of panic swept over him.

"She won't be able to see him," Tom said. "The enchantments that I cast should be powerful enough, and Voldemort cast another layer of protections over mine."

"But she can see you outside the actual portrait, right? When you're out of it and in another painting?"

"It's possible," Tom conceded. "It hasn't been tested out yet so I don't know." He frowned. "How did Myrtle get from Hogwarts to here?"

Harry ignored the question. "Why does all the weird stuff always happen to me - can't I just have a normal life for one minute?" he muttered to himself. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I have to go. We'll talk later, okay? Just keep the Glamour on in case she does see you. But really, it would be better if you just Disillusion yourself if she comes in here." He turned and left the room before Tom could reply, returning to his bedroom.

Myrtle was sitting on his bed.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"My house," Harry said shortly, going to the wardrobe and pulling out clothes for his meeting with Draco.

"But where is it?" she asked. "Scotland? England?"

"London."

"London!" she cried. "How exciting!"

He got everything he needed and turned to look at Myrtle. "I need to take a shower. Do NOT follow me. Do you understand?"

She nodded but her expression was sly.

"Myrtle, so help me," he said sharply, "if you spy on me, I'm going to get  _really_  angry - "

"I've already seen you in the bath," she reminded him.

Harry glared at her. "Yeah, you spied on me, and on Cedric, and Merlin knows who else."

She tittered, looking entirely unrepentant.

"This is  _my_ house, and I don't want you going around spying on me. I'm taking you back to Hogwarts tomorrow. I'd take you back right now if I could."

Tears immediately filled her eyes. "I don't want to go back. I want to stay here. I can be your girlfriend, now that I can touch you," she said cajolingly.

Harry shuddered at the thought. How horrifying. "Myrtle, I don't fancy girls - I like blokes," he said firmly.

"You're a ponce?" she asked, looking shocked ... and a little excited.

"Yes, if you must know. And don't say 'ponce' - that's not a nice word. But yes, I'm gay."

"So the boy you tried to kill, the one you're going to see tonight - you like  _him_?" She looked excited at the thought.

"It's none of your business," Harry said coolly.

She giggled. "You do! You like him!"

"I'm going," Harry said briskly. "Don't follow me." He left the bedroom and headed down the stairs to the bathroom. Checking the time, he saw he had only half an hour before he had to meet Draco. He quickly shed his clothes and jumped in the shower, looking around suspiciously for any hint that Myrtle was there spying on him. Bloody hell, how was this his life?

After showering, he shaved, brushed his teeth, then got dressed. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked nice, he thought; he had dressed a little more smartly than he usually did, just in case it  _was_  a date.

Exiting the bathroom, Harry went down to the kitchen.

"Kreacher, a ghost called Myrtle has followed me home from Hogwarts," he told the house-elf. "Keep an eye on her, would you?"

"A ghost, Master?" Kreacher croaked.

"Yes, one of the Hogwarts ghosts. She followed me home. She's in my bedroom right now - make sure she stays there and doesn't go snooping around the house, okay?"

Kreacher nodded. "Yes, Master."

Harry checked the time; it was just coming on seven o'clock. Bidding the house-elf goodbye, he Apparated to Andromeda's house.

Draco was outside, sitting on the steps. He stood up when he saw Harry.

"Hi," Harry said.

Draco nodded at him. He seemed a bit shy, which made Harry feel more confident.

"Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?" Harry asked. "Have you had dinner? I haven't, and I'm starving."

"I could eat," Draco said. "Somewhere Muggle, though. I don't want to run into anyone," he said quietly.

Harry thought about where they could go. "There's a Muggle cafe near my house. We could go there?"

"Yeah - only, I don't have any Muggle money."

"I do. I'll pay."

Draco shrugged then nodded. "Okay."

"Shall we go then?" He held out his arm, and Draco took it. Harry Apparated them to the alley next to the cafe. When they got inside, they grabbed a table and sat down. It was a little busy, since it was a Friday night, but it wasn't too bad.

Draco looked around. "I haven't been to many Muggle restaurants," he said quietly. "But this seems nice."

"Yeah, I've eaten here a couple of times with Hermione, when she was staying with me. The food is pretty good."

A waitress came over and handed them menus, and they were quiet for a minute as they looked them over. Harry already knew what he wanted so he glanced up at Draco through his lashes, surreptitiously checking him out. It was definitely feeling like a date - Draco was dressed smartly, and Harry had noticed when they Apparated and Draco was holding on to him, that the Slytherin was wearing cologne or after-shave. Harry felt a little flutter in his stomach at the thought of Draco putting cologne on for him.

Draco seemed a bit nervous, he noticed. He was looking at the menu, biting his lip, and he looked fidgety, skittish.

"You're sure this is okay?" Harry asked, thinking maybe Draco was feeling overwhelmed by the crowd.

"It's fine," Draco said.

"I'll cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell after we get our food," Harry said.

The waitress returned. "Ready to order, gents?" she asked.

Draco ordered a penne pasta dish with prawns and Harry ordered the fish and chips. After she left, Harry asked, "Have you been to London much?"

"Yes - well, the wizarding part," Draco said quietly. "I haven't been to the Muggle side much."

"Is there more to the wizarding part than Diagon and Knockturn Alley?"

Draco nodded. "There's Solaris Street, in Westminster, and Capella Market, in Kensington. You haven't been?"

"No, never heard of them."

Draco frowned. "I guess you grew up mostly in the Muggle world?" he asked. "At least that's what the gossip said."

"Yeah. I did." Harry wanted to set the record straight. "I grew up as a Muggle - and I thought I  _was_  a Muggle until I got invited to Hogwarts."

"What? Really?" Draco said, looking surprised. "You - The Boy Who Lived - thought you were a Muggle?"

"The Boy Who Lived," Harry snorted. "I had no idea about any of that until Hagrid told me when he came to deliver my Hogwarts letter. The whole thing was a shock - discovering I was a wizard, and then hearing about Voldemort and that I supposedly defeated him - I had no idea."

Draco swallowed at the mention of the Dark Lord. "Didn't your family tell you anything?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope."

"But - why didn't they?"

"They hated me," Harry said bluntly. "And they hate magic."

Draco looked shocked. "Merlin," he said softly.

Harry shrugged.

The waitress brought their food to the table. As soon as she left, Harry cast the Notice-Me-Not Spell, then told Draco that he'd done it.

"I didn't see you take out your wand," Draco said, frowning.

"Yeah ... I cast it wandlessly."

"You cast it wandlessly," Draco repeated. He looked astonished. "You can do wandless magic?"

"Well ... yes. Can't everyone?"

"No," Draco said, looking at Harry strangely.

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. He'd thought it was something most wizards could do - he'd seen Dumbledore do it, and Voldemort, and Tom, and Snape. When he'd told Tom he couldn't do wandless magic, he'd frankly been a little embarrassed about it because he thought he was behind in learning to do something everyone else could.

"Will you show me?" Draco asked.

"What - you want me to show you me doing wandless magic?"

Draco nodded.

"Um ... okay." Harry Summoned the salt, then Vanished it.

Draco stared at him, his eyes wide. "Wow," he breathed. "That's very impressive, Potter."

"It's not that hard once you practise a bit - you just have to access your magical core to do it," Harry said.

Draco snorted. "No, it's something only  _really_  powerful wizards can do."

Harry hid a grimace. He always felt uncomfortable when anyone suggested he was powerful. He just couldn't see it - he felt like he was ordinary, maybe with a few talents, but nothing special. It was true that Tom had told him he was very powerful but he still had a hard time believing it.

"I've only ever seen the Dark Lord do it," Draco said. He stared at Harry. "I guess I shouldn't be that surprised - you did beat him, after all."

Harry picked up his fork and knife and cut into his fish. "That had nothing to do with power. It was more a fortuitous alignment of unusual circumstances."

Draco's expression was incredulous. "Potter, you beat him with a  _disarming charm._  We couldn't hear what you two were saying but I could read your lips. He cast the Killing Curse at you, and your disarming charm won out - a second year spell against the  _Killing Curse_. That's pretty bloody powerful."

"There was more to it than that," Harry said. "I'll tell you about it, but let's eat first, okay? I'm starving - it was a long day at Hogwarts and all I had was a sandwich."

Draco looked a bit reluctant to let it drop, but after a moment he nodded and began eating his penne. "How is it going at Hogwarts?" he asked between bites. "The damage must be ... extensive."

"Yeah, it's pretty mental," Harry replied. "But it won't take as long as I thought it would to fix it all. They're estimating it will take about six weeks. Then the school will open for a summer session."

"A summer session?" Draco said, frowning.

"Yeah - for the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students. They're going to give us a choice between doing an intensive summer session or repeating the year."

"Which are you going to do?" Draco asked.

"I don't know. I don't really want to think about it yet. It's too soon."

Draco nodded, understanding. After a pause, he asked, "Are there a lot of people helping clean up?"

"Yeah. A fair amount."

"A lot of students?"

"More adults than students," Harry answered. "Luna and Neville were there today though. There were also a few Hufflepuffs I recognised."

"What about your friends? Granger's gone on a trip, you said, but isn't Weasley helping?" Draco asked. "And Weasley's sister?"

"Fred Weasley was killed in the battle," Harry said quietly. "They're all still grieving."

Draco looked ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

Harry changed the subject. They were going to have a heavy enough conversation later. At least they could have a nice dinner first. "How was Teddy today?" he asked. "Did you take him to the park?"

Draco nodded, looking grateful for the subject change. As they ate their dinner, they talked about Teddy, and Andromeda, and what it was like for Draco now that he and his mother were living with them. "My mother seems a lot happier," he told Harry. "Although she and Aunt Andromeda cry a lot. They were up late again last night, drinking wine and crying, looking through photos of their childhood together." He made a face. "Needless to say, I hide out in my room when they're reminiscing."

Harry chuckled.

"Are you coming over tomorrow to see Teddy?" Draco asked suddenly.

"I'm working at Hogwarts again," Harry said. "But I can come after, if it's okay with Andromeda."

"It is - she wanted me to ask you to come over for dinner tomorrow night."

"Dinner - with all of you?"

"Yes."

"Your mother will be there?" Harry asked, trying not to grimace.

Draco frowned and sat up straighter. "Yes - is the thought so horrifying?"

"No. It's just ... I feel a little ... er, awkward around her." The truth was, she made him feel flustered and self-conscious. Thanks to Voldemort he was all too aware of the fact that she knew that Draco had feelings for him, and when they were all together, the way she kept watching the two of them was unnerving. But obviously he wasn't going to tell Draco that. There was another thing he was worried about: "Is it going to be posh?" he asked.

Draco looked amused by the question. "Not terribly posh, no." He shook his head, chuckling. "Really, Potter. You could face the Dark Lord, no problem, but you're nervous about dinner with my mother."

"It's fine," Harry said. "I just hope I don't use the wrong fork or something."

Draco laughed. "It's not going to be that formal, it will just be a normal dinner."

"Okay."

"So you'll come?" Draco pressed.

"Yes."

They had finished eating. Harry wished they could continue the evening doing something fun, instead of having a talk that was sure to turn the mood dark. He didn't want to talk about all the heavy stuff, but he knew Draco did. So he said, "Now that we're done, shall I cancel the Notice-Me-Not spell and get the check so we can go somewhere else, or do you want to stay here?"

"Where could we go?" Draco asked.

If Myrtle hadn't followed him home, Harry probably would have suggested his house. Instead, he said, "We could go to the park by your Aunt's house? Or - you know ... it's Friday night - we  _could_  do something fun. Something different."

Draco seemed interested. "Like what?"

Harry thought about it. "Have you ever been to the cinema?"

Draco smiled. "I have, in fact. A few times."

"I've only been once," Harry said. "I've always wanted to go again."

"Let's go then," Draco said.

"Really?"

"Yes. Why not?" Draco smiled again, conspiratorially. "You're right - we should do something fun."

"Great!" Harry said. He cancelled the Notice-Me-Not Spell then signalled the waitress for the check. As they waited for it, Harry asked, "What kind of movies did you see at the cinema?"

"Well, I was a kid for most of them - I saw 'Beauty and the Beast' and 'Aladdin' ... and the summer before third year I saw something called 'Jurassic Park', which was a bit scary, but cool."

Harry remembered his own experience going to the cinema: the Dursleys took Dudley to see the movie 'Batman' and Mrs Figg couldn't look after Harry that day so Harry got to go too. It was one of Harry's best memories from his childhood.

The waitress returned with the check, and after Harry paid it, they left the cafe and got a newspaper to look at the cinema listings. They decided on the film 'Deep Impact' but when they got to the cinema it was sold out. They ended up seeing a science fiction movie called 'Gattaca'.

Sitting next to Draco in the darkened cinema, their arms touching, Harry felt a bit breathless. The vibe between them was considerably intensified, now that they were sitting so close together. The attraction between them was palpable. Harry wanted to put his arm around Draco or hold his hand, but he worried it was too soon - it absolutely felt like a date, but Harry had never gone on a date with a boy, so he wasn't sure what the rules were.

The movie was very good and Harry quickly got immersed in the story. When it was over, Draco said, "That was amazing."

Harry agreed. They talked about it for a few minutes, as they waited for everyone to leave.

On their way out, Harry asked, "Would you still like to see 'Deep Impact'? We could come again another day and see it."

"Yes, definitely," Draco said, and the way he smiled at Harry made Harry's stomach swoop.

Harry led the way to an alley off to the side. "So - what do you want to do now - do you want to go home or do you want to go to the park by your Aunt's house?" he asked. "Or something else?"

"Let's have a drink," Draco said. "I have some firewhiskey at my house - at Malfoy Manor, I mean ... we can pick it up then go to the park."

"Okay," Harry said.

Draco held out his arm; Harry took it, then Draco Apparated them to Malfoy Manor, to what was presumably Draco's bedroom. Going over to a huge, intricately carved wood wardrobe, Draco pulled out a blanket, two glasses, and a bottle of firewhiskey. "Okay," he said. "Let's go."

They Apparated to the park and found a quiet spot on the grass overlooking the pond. Draco laid out the blanket and they sat down.

"I've only had firewhiskey once before," Harry said as Draco poured him a glass. He took a sip. "Merlin, that's strong."

"Yeah, it's definitely an acquired taste. Just drink it in one go," Draco instructed, then demonstrated.

Harry knocked it back, then started coughing. His throat was burning and his eyes watered. "Bloody hell!" he choked out.

Draco laughed. He poured another shot for each of them, and they both drank. Harry coughed again and his throat burned.

"It's kind of awful," Harry declared. "You said it's an acquired taste - you actually like it?"

Draco smiled, amused. "I don't like the way it tastes, but I like its effect."

Harry was feeling it. He felt great. "Yeah ... this is nice." He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heady feeling wash over him. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Draco was looking at him.

The Slytherin's expression was unguarded for a moment; he looked quite smitten with Harry.

Harry moved closer to him.

Draco couldn't take his eyes off him. It made Harry feel very bold. He was about to reach out and take Draco's hand, when Draco suddenly said, "Will you show me your wandless magic again?"

"Okay," Harry said gamely. He was feeling so good now - the alcohol was making him feel warm and relaxed ... and rather keen. He thought about it for a moment, then remembered the lily he'd conjured in the graveyard. He conjured a red rose, and offered it to Draco with a flirty smile.

Draco took it, blushing. "Very impressive," he said, sounding a little breathless. As they stared at one another, the mood intensified. The pull between them was magnetic. Their eyes locked together, and Harry couldn't look away. Draco was gazing at Harry as if bewitched.

This was it - the moment Harry had been waiting for. He slowly leaned in, giving Draco a chance to pull away if he wanted, and when he didn't, Harry kissed him. Draco made a noise at the back of his throat and melted into the kiss.

It was amazing.

If Harry had any doubts about his being gay vs being straight or bisexual, he didn't anymore. Kissing Draco felt incredible. Harry had only ever kissed Cho and Ginny before this - with Cho it had been a disaster, and with Ginny it had been sweet, but it lacked the kind of spark he was now feeling with Draco.

Wrapping a hand around the back of the Draco's neck, Harry pulled him closer and deepened the kiss; Draco held onto him weakly, completely under his thrall, kissing him back fervently. It felt so brilliant - the feeling between them was romantic but there was also a sexual aspect to it that Harry had never felt with a girl.

It was a revelation.

He broke the kiss to look at Draco. The Slytherin looked utterly dazed and bowled over. It made Harry feel powerful. He kissed Draco again, hungrily, then more softly, his hand cupping Draco's face. After a moment he pulled back. "I'm going to have to go soon," he murmured regretfully. "It's getting late and I have to be at Hogwarts in the morning."

Draco nodded, still looking dazed. "Okay," he said softly.

"I'll walk you home," Harry said. He helped Draco up, then gathered the blanket, glasses, and firewhiskey, wrapping them into a neat bundle. Taking Draco's hand, he began to lead him out of the park. As they walked, they were both quiet - the alcohol and kisses had been intoxicating, and they were still very much under the influence. Holding hands, their fingers loosely intertwined, they made their way down the street to Andromeda's house.

When they got to the house, Harry gave Draco the bundle then pulled him into another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said softly, kissing him again. "What time should I come for dinner?"

"Seven o'clock," Draco said breathlessly.

Harry kissed him one last time, then pulled back. "Okay," he murmured. "See you tomorrow."

He smiled at Draco then Apparated home.

Back in his bedroom, Myrtle was nowhere to be found. He shrugged; he'd deal with it tomorrow. He was tired - and still intoxicated - and all he wanted to do was go to bed. Part of him wanted to see Tom, but he knew he needed to put some distance between them. Plus, if he saw Tom now, Tom would be able to read him, and he'd figure out what happened between Harry and Draco and he'd want to spoil it. Harry felt so good right now, and he didn't want Tom to ruin it.

Leaving his room, he practically floated downstairs to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he washed his face and brushed his teeth, then he went back upstairs, changed into his pyjamas and got into bed.

He was asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: It took this long to get back on track because sometimes the characters take over and go somewhere I wasn't planning and then I have to recalculate things - Tom wasn't going to do the bonding ritual this soon originally; he was working up to it ... But then Voldemort forced his hand; and then Harry avoiding him for almost two days had him rattled and made him feel the urgency to do it and not wait.**
> 
>  
> 
> **As for this chapter, this is where Harry is at: he's falling hard for Tom and it hasn't even been a week, which has him terrified. At this point, he has no intention of resurrecting him - he's not even considering it - so this infatuation seems hopeless, not to mention unwise. Tom might not be Voldemort, but Harry feels he can't trust him - again, it's only been six days since he got the portrait, so it's way too soon for Harry to trust him. So, yes, he's falling for Tom, but he wants to resist it.  
> **  
>  **And then of course there's Draco - Harry likes Draco too, and he thinks he should focus on him instead, as Draco is a more healthy choice, and a relationship with him would be more feasible.**
> 
> **Buckle up for the next few chapters - Tom is going to be very jealous, and things are going to get interesting!**
> 
> **Thanks to javvie for the wonderful fanart! Check it out here: http://i.imgur.com/swgGD3N.png**
> 
> **And thanks to everyone for all the kudos and reviews. I appreciate it more than I can say.**


	19. Chapter 19

Harry woke up late the following morning and only had time to eat a rushed breakfast and take a quick shower before he had to leave for Hogwarts. Myrtle was nowhere to be found; it seemed she was hiding from Harry, so he wasn't able to take her back with him when he Apparated to Hogsmeade.

Luna and Neville arrived just after him and the three of them walked to Hogwarts together. When they got there, they were sent to the Great Hall to find out where they would be working for the day. Luna was assigned to the library, Neville to the greenhouses, and Harry to the classrooms on the third floor.

After making plans to meet for lunch at the lake again, Neville bid them goodbye and left with Professor Sprout, and Harry and Luna headed for the stairs. As they made their way up to the third floor they talked about how much progress had already been made at the school.

"I heard from Professor Flitwick that the kitchens have been restored, and the Hospital Wing, and everything down in the Dungeons, including the Potions classroom," Luna said. "The Hufflepuffs have been working on the Hufflepuff dormitories and are supposed to get finished today."

"Who's working on the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw dormitories?" Harry asked.

"No one yet. We're starting on them next week," Luna replied. "More students will be coming in to help on Monday."

They parted ways at the third floor landing, Luna heading off to the library and Harry going to the classrooms. He was sent to the Charms classroom. Tasked with repairing all the broken desks and chairs, he spent the next few hours hard at work.

He was in a great mood. As he worked he couldn't stop thinking about the night before.

 _He and Draco had gone out on a date, a proper date_.

He kept going over it in his head. It had been a great night: dinner at the cafe, the movie at the cinema, the park - the whole thing had been just what Harry had needed. It was strange how comfortable he felt with Draco after so many years of animosity and fighting. When Draco was relaxed and amiable he was fun to be with. The more time Harry spent with him, the more he liked him. He thought about how attractive the Slytherin was, especially when he smiled, and felt a pleasant flutter in his stomach; he was rather looking forward to seeing him again that evening.

At noon, Luna appeared and they headed downstairs for lunch. They found Neville waiting for them in the Great Hall; he was holding a picnic basket that the house-elves had packed for them. The three of them went to the lake and ate their sandwiches, enjoying the sun and the beautiful day.

An hour later, Harry went back to work in the Charms classroom. After finishing with the desks and chairs he was tasked with getting the storeroom back in order. He spent the rest of the afternoon doing that. At five o'clock, he finished for the day.

Walking to Hogsmeade with Luna and Neville, he began to feel the anticipation for the evening ahead more strongly. Flashbacks of his date with Draco filled his mind and he kept thinking about the kisses they had shared in the park. It was the first time Harry had ever kissed a boy. And it had been brilliant. Now he understood something he hadn't before: there was a chemistry between him and Draco that he'd never felt with Cho or Ginny. He couldn't wait to kiss him again. Draco was a brilliant kisser, very responsive and passionate - the memory of it sent a swooping feeling in Harry's stomach. He thought about the dinner coming up and wondered what they might do after. Draco would want to go somewhere private with him afterwards, wouldn't he? Where could they go? The park again? Or ... should Harry bring him to Grimmauld Place?

It wasn't long before Harry and his friends arrived at the apparition point, and after bidding them goodbye, he Apparated home.

He landed in his bedroom then checked the time. It was half-past five. He'd get the visit with Voldemort out of the way, then he'd have plenty of time to take a shower and get ready for dinner at Andromeda's. He left his room and went straight up to the fourth floor, into what he now thought of as Voldemort's bedroom. Glancing at the Dark Lord for only a second, he counted to three, then quickly departed, ignoring Voldemort's attempt to speak to him.

After closing the door he hesitated on the landing. He was feeling the strong pull to go see Tom. Harry could feel him through the link, and the desire to talk to him intensified. He wanted to see him ... but he needed to resist it. What was happening between him and Tom was too much, too soon; he needed to put distance between them right now.

He went down the stairs and began looking for Myrtle instead. He searched most of the house but he couldn't find her; it seemed she was still hiding from him. Giving up, he returned to his bedroom, and went through his wardrobe to pick out what to wear. There wasn't much to choose from. He really needed to get some new clothes - maybe he'd do that tomorrow; he could ask Draco for suggestions on where to go. After picking out a long sleeved button-down shirt and his nicest jeans, he grabbed the rest of what he needed then went downstairs to the bathroom.

"Myrtle?" he called warily, looking around. "Are you here?"

There was no answer.

"I'm going to take a shower - you'd better not be spying on me," he said severely. Shedding his clothes, he got into the shower. He took his time, washing away the day's grime and relaxing under the stream of hot water. By the time he exited the bathroom, it was twenty minutes to seven.

He called for Kreacher, who appeared a few seconds later. "Have you seen Myrtle - the ghost?" he asked him.

"No, Master," the house-elf replied.

"Well, keep your eye out," he said, frowning. Where was she hiding, he wondered. Moving on to the next subject, he said, "I'm about to go to dinner at Andromeda's. I should bring something, shouldn't I? Do we have any wine or is there a dessert I can bring?"

"Kreacher can get you a cake - I know the kind Miss Andromeda prefers," the house-elf said.

"Narcissa and Draco will be there too," Harry told him. "Can you get something they'd all like, something nice? And can you get it in the next ten to fifteen minutes? I have to be there at seven."

Kreacher nodded and bowed, then disappeared with a crack.

Harry went up to his bedroom for a final once-over in the full-length mirror. He looked okay, he decided, but he'd definitely need to get new clothes since he was probably going to be seeing them a lot in the future. He felt a sudden twinge of nervousness about seeing Narcissa. What if she could tell that he and Draco had gone on a romantic date the night before? What would she think about that?

A flurry of movement caught his eye suddenly. He turned and saw it was Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl. There was a message for Harry. It read:

_Hey mate,_

_Hermione is coming home tomorrow. Mum wants you, Hermione, and the Grangers to come over for dinner. Can you come tomorrow - 6 o'clock?_

_Ron_

After writing a reply, accepting the invitation, Harry sent Pigwidgeon off with it, then went down to the kitchen. Kreacher had returned with a sumptuous-looking cake; it was in a elegantly decorated box with a black ribbon neatly tied around it.

"Thanks, Kreacher, this is perfect," Harry said gratefully. "Listen, there's a chance I might bring Draco over later. Can you make sure the drawing room looks nice for company?"

"Yes, Master," the house-elf said, looking pleased by the idea of Draco visiting Grimmauld Place.

"Thanks." Harry checked the time; it was a couple minutes to seven. Taking the box with the cake in it, he said, "See you later." Then he Apparated to Andromeda's house.

Draco was waiting for him at the entrance of the estate. His smile when he saw Harry sent a warm feeling to Harry's chest. Feeling bold, Harry pulled the Slytherin to him and kissed him ravishingly. Draco melted into it. "I brought a cake," Harry murmured afterwards. Draco looked a bit dreamy, which was very flattering. Harry kissed him again. "Does your mother know about us?" he asked softly when they began walking up the path to the house.

"No," Draco said. Then he elaborated, "She doesn't know I'm ... gay." He said the last word with a little grimace, and Harry had the impression it was the first time Draco had explicitly used the word in regards to himself.

"So she doesn't know I fancy you?" Harry said teasingly.

Draco's blush was adorable.

"I guess that means I can't hold your hand or put my arm around you at dinner," Harry said playfully.

Draco's blush deepened. "Potter, you're an incorrigible flirt, I had no idea."

"Not usually," Harry said softly. "Just with you." It was true. There was something about the Slytherin boy that made Harry feel bold. It was so different from how he'd felt around girls he'd liked. He felt more comfortable and more natural with Draco, more confident.

Draco smiled, looking pleased by Harry's admission. 

When they arrived at the house they went inside and Draco led the way to the sitting room. Andromeda and Narcissa were sitting on the sofa; Andromeda stood and greeted Harry warmly and Narcissa nodded her head cordially. Teddy apparently was already asleep in the nursery so it would be just the four of them. After a little small talk they went to the dining room.

Dinner was a slightly awkward affair. Harry could immediately tell that Narcissa knew something had happened between him and Draco - she kept watching the two of them closely, her eyes never leaving them, her expression inscrutable. It made Harry feel discomfited and ill-at-ease since he had no idea what she was thinking about them. Her manner was a bit cool, but that could just be how she carried herself. Did she mind that Draco was gay? Did she feel that Harry wasn't good enough for her son?

He was relieved when it was over. When they finished dessert (Harry's cake), Draco took Harry to his room. As soon as the door was closed the Slytherin asked, "Do you want to go somewhere? I'd like to get out of here - I've been cooped up here all day."

"What would you like to do?" Harry asked. It was too soon for Grimmauld Place, so he said, "Would you like to go to the cinema again? We could go see 'Deep Impact'."

Draco shook his head. "I'd like that, but when we were queuing for tickets last night I overheard some Muggles saying it had just come out so it would probably be sold out all weekend," he said. "We could get a drink somewhere."

"Like at a pub?"

"Yeah. But a Muggle one."

"Okay, yeah," Harry said. "There's one near my house, down the street from the cafe we went to last night. The drinking age in the Muggle world is 18 but I suppose if they ask for our IDs we can confound them." If Dumbledore could use magic to confound Mrs Cole at Wool's Orphanage, Harry didn't see why he couldn't do it at the pub if necessary.

They went out and joined Andromeda and Narcissa in the sitting room, and after Harry thanked them for dinner, Draco told his mother, "We're going out for a bit - I'll be home later."

Narcissa nodded, her face impassive.

"Thanks again," Harry said to Andromeda. They said their goodbyes, then Draco and Harry went outside, and Harry Apparated them to the alley outside the pub near Grimmauld Place.

The pub was busy, since it was a Saturday night, but they were able to find a table in the back. A waiter came over and handed them some menus.

"Something to eat, or just drinks tonight, gents?" the waiter asked.

"Just drinks," Harry said.

"Are you two over eighteen?" he asked.

"Yep," Harry said confidently.

The waiter shrugged. "Okay then, what'll you be having?"

Harry looked at the menu then at Draco. "What do you think?" he asked the Slytherin.

Draco said, "We'll have two brandies."

"Coming right up," the waiter said. After he returned with their drinks then left, Harry cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell.

Picking up his glass, Harry was about to knock it back, but Draco stopped him. "You're meant to sip it," he said.

Harry gave it a try. It didn't taste great but it filled him with a warm, glowing feeling all the way down to his belly. "Wow," he said. "I don't like the taste that much but it feels nice."

Draco smiled. He took a sip of his own brandy. "Yeah," he murmured. "It's good." He looked around the room, then frowned. "Did you cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, as soon as the waiter left."

Draco made a humming sound. "So ... this is a Muggle pub," he said, looking around again. "Not too different from a wizarding pub, really. Have you been here before?"

"No," Harry said, taking another sip of his brandy.

There was a small stage near their table and they both watched as a band started setting up.

"Great," Draco said, looking pleased. "I love music."

Harry smiled, charmed by Draco's openness. He moved closer to him, partly to see the stage better, but mostly to be closer to him.

The band started to play; their style was an interesting mix of rock and traditional English folk. Draco seemed to really like it.

Harry took his hand under the table, and Draco looked at him and smiled, intertwining their fingers. He looked happy. It made Harry feel very warm inside, seeing him like that.

They watched the band, enjoying the music. It was a great atmosphere. When they finished their brandies, Harry lifted the Notice-Me-Not Spell and ordered two more, recasting the spell after they got them.

After about an hour, the band took a break.

"That was great," Draco said, sitting back contentedly.

"Yeah. I really enjoyed that." Harry felt amazing. He was a little intoxicated by the brandy, and by Draco's company; being with him - and seeing him so relaxed and happy - was brilliant.

Draco smiled at him. It was a sexy smile, and it sent a fluttery feeling to Harry's stomach.

"Shall we get another drink?" Harry asked. When Draco nodded, Harry lifted the spell and motioned for the waiter. He ordered the drinks and after they came, he paid up, then reinstated the spell.

The band came back on the stage for their second set. After a few songs Harry and Draco finished their drinks. Harry was feeling really loose now ... and all he wanted to do was kiss Draco. "Let's go to my house and snog," he whispered into Draco's ear.

Draco agreed with alacrity.

They quickly left the pub and made their way to the alley, then Harry Apparated them to Grimmauld Place, into the drawing room. Once they got there, Harry pulled him close and kissed him, hungrily. Draco made a breathy sound and held onto him, staggering tipsily but kissing Harry back with ardour. "Sofa," Harry murmured, pulling Draco to it. They sat down and resumed kissing. "Merlin, Potter," Draco breathed, sounding dizzy.

"You can call me Harry," Harry said against Draco's lips.

Draco pulled back for a moment to look at him. "I like calling you Potter," he said with a smirk, though his tone was affectionate. Harry responded by leaning forward and kissing him again. When he moved to Draco's neck, the Slytherin gasped, then bared his neck further to give Harry better access. He smelled so good, Harry couldn't get enough. "Merlin, Potter," Draco breathed again. Harry claimed his mouth again, kissing him deeply; Draco tasted of brandy and he smelled amazing, and the way he was holding onto Harry was such a turn-on.

They snogged for several glorious minutes.

Harry was nibbling on Draco's neck when suddenly the Slytherin let out a shriek. He was looking over Harry's shoulder; Harry turned to see what had Draco so spooked and saw Myrtle. "God damn it! Get the hell out of here, Myrtle!" Harry bellowed in outrage.

She tittered and zoomed out of the room.

"Potter, what the hell - what is  _Myrtle_  doing  _here_?" Draco asked in a strangled voice.

Harry sighed then scrubbed a hand over his face. "She followed me home from Hogwarts yesterday."

"Merlin," Draco said. Then he frowned. "Wait, how did she follow you? Didn't you Apparate? How did she know where to go?"

Harry sighed again. "I can touch ghosts apparently," Harry said. "And they can touch me. Or at least Myrtle can; she grabbed onto me just before I Apparated home and got pulled along with me."

"What do you mean you can touch ghosts? Like - they're solid for you?"

"Yes."

Draco stared at him, his eyes wide.

"I know, it's weird," Harry said. "I think it's because I died for a few minutes."

The Slytherin's expression changed, becoming more distressed. "You did, didn't you?" he said quietly. "You actually did  _die_."

"For a few minutes, yeah." Harry was about to continue when he suddenly felt Tom through the link.

A great burst of furious jealousy surged through the connection and Harry immediately knew that Myrtle had just told Tom that she saw Harry and Draco snogging.

How did she know where to find Tom that fast? How much had Tom been speaking to Myrtle? Did he send her to spy on Harry? More than a little irritated, Harry broadcasted his annoyance through the link then strengthened his Occlumency shields, firmly blocking the connection. What he and Draco did was no one's business, he thought angrily.

Draco took his hand and swallowed. "I couldn't believe it when I saw Hagrid carrying you," he said quietly. "And then you moved and ... I knew you were okay. I thought, maybe there's a chance you could actually save us. And then you did. You saved us from Him." The Slytherin looked emotional and Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"It's all over now," Harry said. Draco looked upset - the haunted look was back in his eyes and he kept swallowing. "I know it was hard for you," Harry said softly, wanting to comfort him, "but it's over now."

Draco stared at him. "How do you know it was hard for me? You said you know things - that I wasn't a real Death Eater and I wasn't serving the Dark Lord willingly ... but why would you think that - how would you know?"

"I - do you really want to talk about this?" Harry said, squirming a little. "Now?"

Draco nodded. "Yes."

Harry let out a breath. "Okay." He inclined his head. He had already planned out what he was going to say - so he began. "So ... when Voldemort came after me when I was a baby, he left this curse scar," Harry said, gesturing to his forehead. "Somehow it forged a connection between us. It's why I could speak Parseltongue ... and it also meant I could feel him when he was feeling any strong emotion. I could also see him sometimes through the connection, see through his eyes."

Draco looked horrified.

"I saw you a few times through the connection," Harry said. "That's how I know you weren't really serving him willingly."

Draco swallowed. "I was at first," he said roughly. "When he first came back and made me a Death Eater." He looked ashamed.

"But you realised it was a mistake," Harry said.

"I did terrible things ... it was my fault the Death Eaters got into the school. I killed Dumbledore ... "

"No you didn't," Harry said sharply. "I was there - under my Cloak. I saw the whole thing. Snape did it, not you."

Draco's face crumpled and he let out a stifled sob. "It was my fault, Potter. If you were there, then you know. Snape might have cast the curse, but I disarmed him and left him vulnerable. It was my fault."

"Snape did it on Dumbledore's orders!" Harry said. "I can see you feel guilty but you need to know, there was more going on than you were aware of. Dumbledore planned on it - he knew you had been ordered to kill him and he told Snape he didn't want that on your conscience, he wanted Snape to do it."

Draco shook his head.

"He was already dying, Draco. He got Cursed, and he only had a few weeks or months left, at most, by that time. He knew he was going to die so he planned it with Snape, partly to spare you and partly to put Snape in a better position with Voldemort. Snape was a spy - he was working with Dumbledore." Harry went on to explain about Snape's love for Lily. "When Voldemort killed her, he went to Dumbledore and Dumbledore made him take an oath to protect me. Snape was pretending with Voldemort - he pretended he was duping Dumbledore but it was really Voldemort he was fooling."

Draco looked shocked. "He was very convincing."

"I know. But when he died he gave me his memories to look at in the Pensieve, and I saw them. Snape was definitely working with Dumbledore against Voldemort."

There was a long silence as Draco processed what Harry told him. Then he spoke.

"So ... when you saw me through the connection with the Dark Lord ... I guess you saw ... what I really felt about you."

"I didn't see much," Harry said carefully, quietly. "But ... er, I know you're really good at Occlumency, and I know he used the Cruciatus Curse on you to open your mind enough so he could find out what you were hiding."

Draco looked down at his lap. "Yes. And that was what I was hiding." Harry took his hand again and squeezed it, wanting to comfort and reassure him. "He thought it was hilarious," Draco continued after a moment. "He tortured me and mocked me and promised I'd be there to watch you die. And later, when you got away from my house after Aunt Bellatrix called for him, he blamed me for it. He said I was the one who sent Dobby to help you. He held me under the Cruciatus Curse so long I blacked out. My mother says I'm lucky to still have all my faculties."

Harry felt sick.

"My parents didn't know the whole truth of my feelings about you; they just thought I'd turned against the Dark Lord and was sympathetic to helping you beat him," Draco said.

Harry wasn't sure if he should tell Draco the truth. But Draco was being really brave telling Harry about all this - he deserved to know. "Um ... I don't know about your father, but I think your mother did know," Harry said quietly. "Her Occlumency wasn't as good as yours and Voldemort saw it in her mind."

"My mother knew ... how I feel about you?" Draco said in a strangled voice.

"Yes," Harry said quietly. "I think so."

"So she knows I'm ... gay." Draco let out a breath. "Merlin." Suddenly he said, "Oh - so that's why you've been so weird around her. Because you've known all of this the whole time."

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Um ... and I think she knows something happened between us last night," Harry said quietly. "The way she was looking at us during dinner ... she knows, I could tell."

After a moment Draco frowned. "You knew how I felt about you ... and what? That changed things? Is that what happened? When you came for tea the other day, you said you didn't want to fight anymore."

The truth was, Harry hadn't actually known about Draco's feelings for him at that time; Voldemort had told him the next day. So Harry had actually said that to Draco because he had felt that way. "I fancied you before that," he said to Draco. He thought about it. "In sixth year. I was pretty obsessed with you. I realise now  - I think a big part of it was because I fancied you though I wouldn't admit it to myself at the time. I knew you were a Death Eater and I didn't want to fancy you, but I couldn't help it." 

"Really?"

It was the truth and now Harry could admit it. "Yes."

Draco was quiet for a moment. "So, you really do - you really do like me," he said softly.

Harry smiled. "Yes. Obviously."

Draco looked at him, his expression soft. He looked happy. "I've liked you for so long ... I can't believe it's finally happening."

"How long?" Harry asked quietly.

"Since the beginning," Draco said, as if it were obvious.

Harry stared at him.

"I tried to be your friend," Draco said, "but then you rejected me. I was embarrassed and hurt, that's why I was so ... awful to you." He paused. "I mean, I was also ... not such a nice person. I know that. I can see why you didn't want to be friends with me."

Harry sighed, then confessed, "The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. I begged it not to, partly because you put me off."

Draco looked gobsmacked. "You were almost a Slytherin?"

"Yeah."

Draco digested that then said, "I wonder how things would have turned out, if you had been."

Harry shrugged. It was too much to imagine. "Only one of us would have been Seeker," he joked.

Draco chuckled and shook his head.

Harry reached out and touched Draco's face. Then he leaned forward and kissed him. Their talk had cleared up a lot of things, and he felt so close to him now. Feeling a sudden surge of tenderness toward the Slytherin, Harry kissed him again, sweetly, his heart swelling; Draco melted against him, kissing him back with emotion.

They kissed for a few minutes, then Draco pulled back and asked where the lavatory was. Harry directed him to it. When Draco returned, he said, "Really, Potter, this house is ... not at all like you." He looked around the drawing room. "It's pretty grim."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I do have plans to renovate. I just don't know where to start."

"Will you show me around? I'd love a tour."

"Okay." Harry got up. "Let's go to the kitchen first. I'm thirsty." He led the way to the stairs, and as they walked down to the ground floor Draco kept staring at the mounted house-elf heads on the wall. He looked horrified. "Merlin, Potter. This is mental," he said. On the ground floor Harry held him back from stepping further into the hall. "There's a nasty jinx that Moody set," he warned. "I haven't been able to figure out how to get rid of it." He led the way down the stairs to the kitchen.

Kreacher was there. He looked very excited to see Draco. "Would Master Harry and Master Draco like something to drink? Or perhaps something to eat?"

Harry looked at Draco. "Do you want something to drink?"

Draco checked the time, so Harry did too; it was half-past eleven. "Are you working at Hogwarts tomorrow?" Draco asked him.

"No, they're not working since it's Sunday," Harry said. "I'm having dinner tomorrow night at the Weasleys' but I have nothing planned before that. I was thinking I might go shopping, which I hate, but I need new clothes."

"Do you want me to help you with that?" Draco asked, looking him over.

"Um, yeah, if you wouldn't mind. I could use a second opinion. I basically need a full wardrobe."

Draco grinned. "I love shopping," he declared.

"Good," Harry said, smiling back at him. "So, now that's settled, do you want a drink?"

"Judging from the tour so far, maybe a glass of firewhiskey is in order," Draco said wryly.

Harry chuckled then turned to Kreacher. "Do we have any firewhiskey?" he asked.

"Yes, Master. Kreacher will go get it." The house-elf bowed then disappeared with a loud crack, returning a minute later with a bottle of Ogden's. Harry took it then wandlessly Summoned two glasses and poured him and Draco a shot each.

They downed them in one go. Harry coughed, his eyes and throat burning. "Merlin!" he gasped. "I forgot how horrible it is. I definitely like brandy better."

Draco laughed, amused.

"Let's go," Harry said. He led Draco back up the stairs to the ground floor. "The library and the dining room are down there," he said, pointing to the end of the hall.

"Can I see?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. Just be really quiet. We don't want to wake Walburga."

"Walburga?"

"She was Sirius' mother and your mum's aunt, and my father's first cousin. Her portrait is here and she's a nightmare."

"Wait, what?" Draco said. "Your father was my mother's aunt's cousin? What does that make us then?" He was quiet a moment, calculating. "Second cousins, twice removed, I think. That's a distant enough connection, thank Merlin."

Harry smirked. "Not too incestuous," he said. He pulled Draco along and led the way down the hall, opening the door to the dining room first. Draco peeked in but there wasn't much to see so they quickly moved on to the library. Draco seemed interested in the books; he walked around looking at the titles, his eyes widening almost comically when he got to a certain section.

"Merlin, Potter, these books are as Dark as they come."

Harry shrugged. "It  _is_  the Black ancestral house," he said.

"It's so weird that this is your house - you, the poster boy for the Light."

"I'm not lily-pure," Harry said. "I've cast my share of Dark curses." He remembered the time he cursed Draco and felt a rush of guilt flood through him. "That spell I cast on you in the bathroom - the Sectumsempra Curse - I didn't know what it did when I cast it. I never apologised for that. I'm sorry," he said, looking at the Slytherin remorsefully.

"It's okay," Draco said softly. "I deserved it. Although I  _was_  surprised to see you use such a Dark spell. I remember thinking, 'He's not just playing anymore, he really means business now' - I was a little scared of you after that."

Harry felt terrible. "I'm sorry," he said.

Draco waved a hand. "It's fine, Potter. I told you, I deserved it."

Harry shook his head. "No. You didn't."

"C'mon, show me the rest of the house," Draco said, clearly wanting to lighten the mood.

Harry led the way down the hall.

Unfortunately, when they passed the entrance table, Draco tripped over the troll-leg umbrella stand, setting off Walburga. The portrait started screaming which prompted a startled shriek out of Draco. Harry opened the curtains roughly and shouted right in her face, "Shut up!"

" _Defilers! Filth in the house of my fathers!_ " she screeched.

"This is  _my_  house now," Harry yelled. "I am the  _rightful heir_  of the house of Black so just SHUT UP!" He angrily closed the curtains. He turned back to Draco, who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry shook his head. "I wish I could figure out how to undo the Permanent Sticking Charm."

Draco laughed. "Any other surprises?" he asked drily. "First Myrtle, now this - is there anything else?"

"Just the jinx I mentioned," Harry said.

"What is it exactly?"

"Moody set it up to keep Snape from coming in but I don't know how to get rid of it."

"Show me - maybe I can help," Draco said.

Harry went to the front door and opened it then closed it swiftly. Moody's voice whispered, " _Severus Snape_?" then Harry felt the Tongue-Tying Curse whoosh over him. He stepped forward and the wasted figure of Dumbledore rose from the carpet and rushed towards them, pointing at Harry. Draco screamed in horror. "We didn't kill you," Harry said quickly, and the figure exploded, leaving behind a cloud of dust. Harry put his arms around Draco, who was trembling now, and pulled him close, rubbing his back soothingly. "God, I'm so sorry - I didn't think - "

"This is some house you have here, Potter," Draco said in a choked voice.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sort of used to it, so I forget what it must look like to someone who's never been over before."

Draco held onto him for a long moment, his face buried in Harry's shoulder. "So was that the last of it?" he asked. "Are there any more surprises?"

'No, that's it," Harry said. "Look, let's do the rest of the tour during the day. It's creepier at night."

"I'm fine," Draco said, pulling back then brushing himself off. "Really. It just ... startled me. I'm fine now." He took Harry's hand. "Come on, show me the rest."

Harry took him back to the first floor and showed him the bedrooms, then continued on to the second floor. After showing Draco the bedrooms there, he bypassed the third floor, and took him straight to the fourth floor, showing him Sirius' bedroom first. He wanted to avoid Regulus' bedroom since the portrait was there, but he knew Draco would ask questions, so he opened the door and waved a hand, saying, "This was my room but I've moved now to a bedroom on the third floor."

"Ah, I see what has Tom so unhappy," Voldemort said from the mirror in the portrait, sounding quite annoyed himself.

Draco went inside and looked around the room, not hearing the Dark Lord's words. He gaped at the collage of newspaper cuttings on the wall. "Potter, these are all of the Dark Lord!" he said. "This was your  _bedroom_?"

"Yes, it was originally Regulus Black's room - they were his. He was a Death Eater."

"Merlin," Draco said. "But why didn't you take them down? It's like ... a tribute ... to the Dark Lord."

"I guess I got used to them and didn't even notice them anymore. When I moved in here it was because I didn't want to stay in Sirius' room anymore - too many memories," he said quietly. "So I wasn't really paying attention to what was in here. Anyway, I didn't like the room," he said glancing at Voldemort, "so that's why I moved downstairs."

Draco put his hand on Harry's arm and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry about the comments I made about your godfather," he said softly.

Voldemort made a derisive sound. "Really, Potter, this is absurd. He is weak, in both power and character. You cannot actually be considering him."

Now that he knew what Voldemort did to Draco, Harry felt especially defiant. He pulled Draco to him and kissed him ardently; Draco responded by snaking his arms around Harry's waist and kissing him back enthusiastically.

"This display is revolting," the Dark Lord said in disgust.

"Let's go to my room," Harry said in Draco's ear, but loud enough for Voldemort to hear. Harry led Draco out then turned and made a rude face at Voldemort before closing the door behind him.

When they got to the third floor landing, Harry said, "So that was the tour - there's some more bedrooms on this floor, but Myrtle is probably in one of them." He opened the door to his bedroom and guided Draco inside. "This is my room," he said.

Draco looked around. "It's a sight better than the one upstairs," he said.

"I guess - it still needs a lot of work," Harry said. "The whole house needs renovating. I don't even know where to start."

"You could hire a decorator," Draco suggested.

"I don't want anyone to know where I live. This house is Unplottable and under a Fidelius Charm. I don't want a stranger having my address."

Draco hesitated, then said, "I could help you."

"Really? Would you want to?"

"Yes. I would love to - I think I'd be pretty good at it, actually. I have an eye for design and colour and style."

Harry smiled. It was nice seeing Draco speak confidently about himself. "I bet you'd be great at it," he said.

They sat down on Harry's bed, close together.

"I can't stay much longer," Draco said, sounding regretful. "I don't want my mother to worry. After what happened the other day with Macmillan, I know she'll be anxious if I stay out too late." He grimaced suddenly. "And now I know she knows how I feel about you, and that I'm gay, and apparently she figured out what happened between us last night. Merlin."

"I'm worried she won't approve of me," Harry admitted softly.

"Of course she will, why wouldn't she?" Draco said, frowning.

"Maybe she thinks I'm not good enough for you. Not posh enough," he clarified.

Draco laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter. You're the saviour of the wizarding world - in Britain at least. There could be no better catch than that."

"Oh, I'm a good catch, am I?" Harry said, smiling.

Draco smacked his arm playfully. "Don't get a big head about it, Potter," he said, smiling back at him.

They started kissing, softly.

It was so nice, being together like this. They had come a long way in just a few days, it was amazing. Harry felt so close to him, like they'd reached an understanding. It felt so natural with Draco. It had never been like that with Cho or Ginny; and there had never been this kind of spark with them. Cupping Draco's face with one hand, Harry kissed him sweetly.

"I'm going to have to go," Draco murmured after a while.

"I know," Harry said. He helped Draco up. "I need to use the loo, then I'll take you home," he said.

They went downstairs and Harry went into the bathroom; Draco went to the drawing room to wait for him. When Harry re-joined him, he took Draco's hand then Apparated them to just outside the entrance to Andromeda's estate, a little off to the side so they were out of view.

"So, you're sure you want to go shopping with me tomorrow?" Harry asked. When Draco nodded, Harry said, "We'll both wear Glamours, so you won't have to worry about us being bothered by anyone."

"What time do you want to meet?" Draco said.

"Ten o'clock?"

"Okay. Meet me here and I'll take you to Solaris Street, since you've never been. It's nice; you'll like it."

Harry pulled him in for one last kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow then, " he murmured when they broke apart. Then he stepped back and Apparated home.

He Apparated into his bedroom, then went straight to the bedroom next door.

Myrtle was sitting on the floor in front of the painting talking animatedly to a Glamoured Tom.

"What the hell is this?" Harry said, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm telling Tom about Hogwarts," Myrtle said. "He's very interested in hearing about it."

Harry stared at Tom, eyes narrowed. "I'll bet he is."

"Nothing nefarious," Tom said, his voice cool.

"Myrtle, could you excuse us? I need to speak to Tom in private."

"But I was in the middle of a conversation!" Myrtle said.

"You can continue it later," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Myrtle pouted and didn't move.

"Go or I'll take you back to Hogwarts right now, I don't care how late it is."

At that, she obeyed, getting off the floor with a huff and floating to the door then disappearing through it.

After wandlessly casting Imperturbable and Muffliato Charms, Harry turned to face Tom. "So, you sent her to spy on me," he said coldly.

"Oh, no, she did that of her own volition. And she couldn't wait to tell me what she saw," Tom said, just as coldly. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's none of your business," Harry said, unmoved.

"Stop with the games," Tom said, his voice rising. "I know you brought her here to punish me."

Harry gave a humourless laugh. "You really think that? That's ridiculous. She followed me home."

"Except a ghost can't follow you to an Unplottable location - this house is under a Fidelius Charm; so there's no way she could have found you. You brought her here. Admit it. You want to punish me."

"Wrong. She grabbed onto me when I Apparated home yesterday."

Tom shook his head. "That's impossible."

"It's because I died. Ghosts are solid to me now. Myrtle can touch me - she followed me to Hogsmeade and then grabbed onto me just before I Apparated." He lifted his chin. "Anyway, I don't want you talking to her. I'm taking her back to Hogwarts Monday and I don't want her gossiping about you or anything else she's seen here. The less contact with you, the better."

"She doesn't know who I am," Tom said frigidly. "I told her I am a Black, distantly related to you."

"She called you Tom."

"Yes, Thomas Black, an illegitimate child from a lesser branch of the family."

Harry huffed out a breath. "Fine. Even so," he said, "I don't want you talking to her."

"Why not?" There was an edge to Tom's voice.

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "Because I know you - you'll charm her and soon have her doing your bidding. I'm not an idiot. I know how you operate."

"Always determined to think the worst of me," Tom said. "I thought we were past that."

"You've lied and kept things from me and withheld important information, not to mention you used the link to secretly try to strengthen our connection. Why should I trust you?" He stared at Tom. "I know what we did was a bonding ritual - Voldemort told me. You didn't do it just to help me, you did it for your own purposes," he accused.

Tom snorted rudely. "Oh, so you believe Voldemort now. Of course, he has no reason - no reason whatsoever - to try to cause trouble between us and make you doubt me," he said sarcastically. He shook his head angrily. "This is unbelievable," he hissed. "You're playing right into his hands, can't you see that?"

Harry could feel his anger and frustration, and his hurt, through the link.

"You're letting him get to you, and you're punishing  _me_  for it!" Tom said roughly.

Harry deflated a bit, frowning, wondering if that were true.

"And this dalliance with the Malfoy boy - he's pushing you into it, and you don't even realise it. It's exactly what he wants ... for the moment, at least."

Harry stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"He knows you. He knows exactly how to manipulate you. Why do you think he told you about the boy's feelings for you - he knew it would drive you straight into his arms. He knows that you and I are getting close and he feels threatened. He'd rather you be with the Malfoy boy than get closer to me."

Harry let out a sharp breath. Was it true? Was that Voldemort's game? Harry's feelings for Draco were real, he had no doubt about that, and nothing Tom could say or Voldemort could do would stop him from pursuing a relationship with the Slytherin boy, but it was disconcerting to hear that it was exactly what Voldemort wanted.

"And it has the added bonus that he can throw it in my face," Tom said furiously. "He sent me the image of you kissing the Malfoy boy in front of him. You did it to spite him, but you were playing right into his hands."

"It wasn't just to spite him," Harry protested. "I really like Draco. Maybe it's what Voldemort wants but it doesn't matter."

"Why do you like him? He's not good enough for you," Tom said. "He's not your equal."

Harry huffed, "I don't care about that - what is my equal, anyway? It doesn't matter. I like him. He's nice, and sweet, and fun to be with, and we have a connection. That's good enough for me."

"You only have one equal and I think you know who it is. And you're avoiding it because you're scared."

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry burst out. "And I don't want to talk about Draco with you."

"Seeing that image of you with him made me ill," Tom said, his voice suddenly fierce. "Let's see how you like it." He placed the tip of his wand to his head and drew out a memory. " _Ostendo Memoria_!"

An image filled the painting.

For some reason, Harry had thought it would be of him with Draco - but no, it was of Tom and ... Abraxas Malfoy.

They were on a bed together - Tom was kissing Abraxas, who was practically swooning. It was horrible. The kiss was passionate and full of lust and the two of them were grinding against each other.

Harry couldn't bear it. Feeling sick with jealousy, he couldn't stand to see another second of it.

He fled from the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So, I know there are some readers who aren't into the Harry/Draco relationship. Most of the anti-Drarry people have been polite about it in reviews but there have been a few comments that were downright rude. Rude, demanding comments only put me off and make the story take that much longer to write. I get that some might not like them together but that's where we're at right now in the story. Harry really likes him and he deserves to be happy in a comparatively uncomplicated relationship - he went through so much and he needs Draco's sweetness right now, and Draco needs him. The Drarry stuff will only be for another couple of chapters so let them be happy! This is going to be a long story. We're only a week into it at this point. Please be patient. There's a lot of good stuff coming up but I'm not going to rush past anything.
> 
> For those who do like Harry/Draco and are worried for Draco, I don't want to give too much away but I will say I love Draco and I would never hurt him. And please don't worry that Harry is just using him - he likes Draco as much as Draco likes him, and that's a lot.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks, and reviews. I really appreciate them more than I can express.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry didn't sleep well. He tossed and turned, as the image of Tom and Abraxas Malfoy kept replaying over and over in his head, and when he finally did sleep, he dreamed about them. He woke up in a bad mood. He was angry with Tom, and getting increasingly furious that Tom had showed him the memory in the first place. It wasn't Harry's fault that Myrtle had told Tom what she saw or that Voldemort had sent the image of Harry and Draco to him; but Tom had purposefully showed Harry his memory to upset him and even the score.

It only served to show Harry that he was right to avoid him. He wasn't going to let Tom spoil what he had with Draco.

He meditated for a while, using his Occlumency to contain the memory and lock it away. When he was satisfied that it was sufficiently banished from his conscious mind, he got out of bed, determined not to let Tom or Voldemort affect him any more.

He went up and got his visit with Voldemort out of the way, ignoring the Dark Lord's attempt to talk to him about Draco, then went down to breakfast.

As he ate, he thought about the day ahead. He couldn't wait to see Draco again. Harry really didn't like shopping, but maybe it would be fun with Draco. The Slytherin always seemed to be well-dressed - he had a certain style that was quite attractive. Harry hoped Draco could help him figure out what his own style was; he had no idea what looked good on him and what didn't.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the Galleon burning in his pocket. He took it out and read Hermione's message:

_I'm home. Can I come over?_

He replied:

_Yes, come over. You can Apparate directly into the house. I'm in the kitchen._

A minute later Hermione arrived. Harry got up and gave her a big hug. He was really glad to see her.

"How are your parents?" he asked when they sat sat down at the table.

"They're getting settled at the house," she said, grimacing.

She looked stressed out.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes ... but maybe ... would it be okay if I stay here for a little while, like a few days?"

"Of course," Harry said, frowning in concern. "You're always welcome here. But, how come you don't want to stay with your parents?"

"They're angry with me," she said. "They forgive me, but they're angry. And right now they're upset because they have a lot to do to get their lives straightened out. I'm sure it will get better once they get things sorted." She grimaced. "I think it's best if I give them some space while they do that."

He nodded, understandingly. "Well, you can stay here as long as you like." 

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Are you going to the Weasleys' tonight? Are your parents coming too?" he asked.

"I am; they're not." She made a face. "They'll be too tired to go tonight - it's half past four in the afternoon in Sydney at the moment so the time difference is going to take a toll later. Plus, with everything being so chaotic, they're too cross to want to socialise right now," she said. "But anyway, you're going, right?"

He nodded.

She looked at him more closely. "So, how are  _you_?" she asked. "How are things going?"

He couldn't help but smile. "Things are good."

"Yeah?" she said.

"Yeah. I've been spending a lot of time with Draco. I'm actually going out soon - I'm meeting him at ten," he said. "We're going shopping - I need new clothes and he said he'd help me with that."

"So ... you're spending time together, like dating?"

"Yeah. We're together," Harry said. "Romantically."

She raised a brow. "Wow."

"Yeah. I really like him," he said softly. "Things have happened kind of fast, but it feels so ... natural. Like it's what was meant to happen."

"Wow," Hermione said again. She looked a little surprised. Then she smiled. "You look happy."

"I am." His smile turned into a grimace. "But I'm going to have to tell Ginny tonight, about my being gay ... and about Draco. And I'll have to tell Ron too, I guess. Merlin, I'm not looking forward to that. I don't know how either of them will take it. Not well, I'm sure."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you want me there with you when you talk to Ron?" she asked. "I know you'll want to speak with Ginny about it alone, but I can be there with you for the talk with Ron."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Maybe." He was sure that Ron was going to take it really badly so he could definitely use Hermione's moral support. "Thanks."

"So, how is everything else going?" she said after a moment. "You've been helping at Hogwarts?"

He told her about the progress that had been made. Then he told her about Myrtle. "Er, so there's been one weird development," he said. "I can touch ghosts apparently. And Myrtle followed me home the other day."

"Myrtle? She's  _here_? In this house? Right now?"

"Yeah. She followed me to Hogsmeade and grabbed onto me just before I Apparated home. I want to take her back but she's been hiding from me, for the most part."

Hermione digested that, frowning. "So ... you can touch ghosts and _they_ can touch you?"

He nodded. "Apparently. I think it's because I died for those few minutes," he said.

She hummed thoughtfully.

"I was working on the first floor classrooms so I visited Myrtle's bathroom that first day, and when she saw me she immediately said I was different," he elaborated. "She said she could see an aura around me and that it felt almost like I was a ghost."

Hermione frowned, looking pensive. "I wonder if there are any books that talk about near death experiences for wizards and the effect it might have on them," she murmured. She looked at Harry. "But you feel okay otherwise?"

"I don't feel any different. Myrtle is the one who noticed something was weird. Then she reached out to touch me, and she was solid to me."

"How strange."

"Welcome to my world," Harry said drily.

Hermione chuckled at his wry tone, then said, "I'll do some research."

He nodded then moved on from the subject. "So, what was Sydney like?"

They talked for a while about Australia and more about Hermione's parents.

At nine o'clock, Harry excused himself so he could take a shower and get ready for his outing with Draco. "Just so you know," he said, "I'll probably be bringing him back here after we go shopping." He paused. "Is that, er, going to be a problem for you?"

"No. Not at all," she said, smiling. "I can see he makes you happy. That's all that matters to me."

Harry grinned. "Thanks."

He and Hermione walked up the stairs to the first floor. "I'm going to take a nap now instead of later," she said when they got to the landing. "I stayed up really late last night to prepare for the time difference and I'm feeling a bit tired now."

"Okay, I'll see you later," he said. He was about to go when he suddenly thought of something. With Hermione alone in the house, there was a chance she might hear Myrtle talking to Tom. "So, er, listen ... Myrtle has found a portrait here that she's been talking to," he said. "It's of some illegitimate Black whose portrait is in one of the bedrooms upstairs - his name is Thomas Black. Just ignore them if you hear anything."

She nodded, looking unconcerned, then went to her room.

Harry went up to his bedroom and picked out his clothes for the day then went and took a shower.

At ten o'clock he Apparated to Andromeda's.

Draco was waiting for him at the entrance to the estate. He looked very happy to see Harry, and the feeling was mutual; Harry pulled him close and kissed him sweetly. "Hi," he murmured against Draco's lips. "Hi," Draco breathed, holding onto him and hugging him tightly for a moment.

When they broke apart, Draco said, "So, I'm going to take you to Solaris Street - but we need to stop at Gringott's first." He stepped back and took out his wand, then cast a Glamour over himself, giving himself darker hair and changing the shape of his face to one that was rounder. He looked at Harry. "Are you going to wear a Glamour too?"

Harry nodded and wandlessly cast the spell over himself, changing just his face and hair too.

Draco gave him an admiring look for the wandless magic, then said, "Do you have any plans later, in the afternoon? There's somewhere I'd like to take you for lunch."

"I'm having dinner at the Weasleys' at six tonight, so I have to be home by five to get ready, but other than that my whole day is open," Harry said, smiling.

Draco smiled back at him. "Great," he said. "Shall we go then?" He took Harry's hand and they Apparated to Diagon Alley.

Once they got inside Gringotts, they parted ways for a short time to go to their respective vaults and fill their moneybags. When Harry met Draco back at the front desk, the Slytherin was changing a stack of Galleons to Muggle money; Harry did the same thing, then they walked to the apparition point outside, and Draco took Harry's hand and Apparated them to Solaris Street.

It was nice, more upscale than Diagon Alley. Draco led the way to a shop specialising in men's formal clothes. After consulting with the tailor, who took Harry's measurements, Draco picked out several things for Harry to try on then took him to the dressing room, making him drop the Glamour so he could properly judge how Harry looked in everything. Harry felt silly modelling the clothes for Draco but the way the Slytherin looked at him, his eyes running over Harry's body, was very sexy.

Deferring to Draco's judgement, Harry ended up ordering half a dozen shirts in assorted colours, four jackets, four pairs of nice trousers, four sets of robes, a dozen ties, four pairs of shoes, and several pairs of boxer-briefs and socks. To Harry's relief, the tailor used magic to alter everything to his exact measurements, so it wasn't too long before the entire order was all packaged up, ready to go. Harry called for Kreacher to take the packages and bring them home, instructing the house-elf to unpack them into his wardrobe.

They moved on to the next shop. It was another men's clothing shop, but one with more casual attire. Harry picked out some t-shirts, a few pairs of jeans, and four pairs of casual trousers to sleep in or wear around the house. When the order was ready, he called Kreacher again and the house-elf took the packages home.

"Okay, that's enough shopping," Harry said when they got outside.

Draco chuckled at his tone, then said, "Let's go have lunch."

Harry nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere nice, a surprise." Draco took Harry's hand. "Ready?"

When they landed, Harry took a look around. They were standing on the banks of a river that looked a bit like the Thames but the buildings along the river were different, more charming and picturesque. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Paris," Draco said, squeezing his hand.

Harry grinned. "Really? Wow."

"We can take our Glamours off here," Draco said, waving his wand over himself and cancelling the spell. Harry cancelled his own Glamour, then Draco pulled him along the bank of the river. "We'll take the water taxi down the Seine to the cafe - that way you can see a bit of the city."

Harry was pretty bowled over. He'd never been out of Britain before. It was incredibly romantic that Draco took him here.

The river taxi was up ahead. Draco spoke to the ticket seller in French and paid with a different kind of money than Harry had ever seen before. They got on the boat and Draco led them to the seats in the back. After sitting down, Harry said, "I didn't know you could speak French." He leaned closer and whispered, "It's kind of hot hearing you speak it."

Draco smirked. "You think so?" he said.

Harry wanted to snog him. He quickly cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell then gave Draco a ravishing kiss. The boat began to move, and Harry took Draco's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Draco pointed out things along the way. "It's all Muggle, of course, but Paris has a special magic all its own. That's the Louvre just up there," he said, pointing. As they passed under the bridge, Harry kissed him again, feeling moved by the romance of it all. "This is amazing," he whispered to the Slytherin. "Thanks for taking me." Draco looked happy. "I'm glad you like it," he said softly, squeezing Harry's hand.

They had lunch at a cafe, outside on a terrace which overlooked the Eiffel Tower. Draco ordered for them in French and Harry listened attentively, loving the way it sounded.

"So how come you speak French?" he asked when the waiter left.

"The Malfoys have always had ties here - we were originally from France but my great-great-grandfather moved to England when he married my great-great grandmother. I speak French because my paternal grandmother is from here and I used to visit her and my grandfather during the summers when they stayed at their house here," Draco said. "They lived in England part of the time but they spent a great deal of time here too. I spent many summers here."

"Wow," Harry said. "What was that like?"

"It was great - they had a country estate just outside Paris, in a wizarding hamlet. But they took me to Paris quite a bit - to go to the opera and the theatre and concerts and such. My grandfather was pretty anti-Muggle, a typical Pureblood Supremacist ... but my grandmother loved Muggle culture - at least their music and plays and things like that."

"So you saw a lot of that - Muggle operas and plays?"

Draco nodded. "And it was Grand-mère who took me to the cinema. She thought I would enjoy it. And I did, of course."

The food was delicious, the view was wonderful, and the conversation was interesting. Harry was having a brilliant time. They had wine with their meal and Harry couldn't tell if it was going to his head or if it was just being with Draco that was making him feel so pleasantly intoxicated; they only had one glass each so he was betting it was the latter.

When they finished lunch they walked around for a bit. "I want to take you here again, but at night," Draco said, as they stood on a bridge overlooking the Seine. "Paris is incredible at night."

"I would really like that," Harry said, smiling widely. He felt really happy.

Draco took him to his grandparents' country estate next. They landed just inside the entrance gates, which bore the name Château de Malfoy, and walked down a winding path to the house, which gave Harry a chance to see a bit of the French countryside. After a pleasant ten minute walk, they arrived at the front door; Draco took out his wand and unlocked it, ushering Harry inside. "Grand-mère left this to me when she passed last year," he said to Harry as they entered. "I haven't seen it since so I'd like to check on it."

It was a beautiful house - as posh as Malfoy Manor, but lighter and airier and more charming. Draco took Harry on a tour, telling him stories about the summers he spent at the house. In the portrait gallery, he immediately went over to one of the portraits - of a beautiful older woman with a kind face - and began speaking to her animatedly in French, looking both sad and happy at the same time. "This is my Grand-mère," he said to Harry. "Grand-mère, this is Harry Potter," he said, introducing them.

Harry bowed respectfully. "Hello," he said. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Hello, it is my pleasure to meet you too," she replied in heavily-accented English. She looked at Draco and said, "Votre petit ami est très beau, mon cher." Draco blushed. "Oui, je sais," he said, ducking his head. She smiled.

"Draco," the portrait next to hers said suddenly, the voice cold. Harry looked over at it and knew at once it was Abraxas Malfoy. He stiffened.

"Grandfather," Draco said, nodding at him, his expression icy.

"How dare you bring this Mudblood filth into my house," Abraxas said.

"It's my house now," Draco said, "and I'll do what I like."

Harry watched the exchange, taken aback by the venom in Draco's voice.

"And he defeated your precious Dark Lord," Draco continued coldly, "so there you are. The Dark Lord is  _dead_ , defeated by his hand, as prophesied. And he used  _my_  wand to do it," he said defiantly.

Abraxas looked shocked. "My own grandson, a traitor! A disgrace! How could you - "

Draco's grandmother said something sharply to her husband in French, and Draco grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away. "Let's go," he said. "We don't have to listen to this."

Abraxas was still spluttering in fury as they left the gallery.

When they got to the next room, Draco turned to Harry and said, "I'm sorry about that." He looked angry and upset.

"It's okay," Harry said quietly, not sure what else to say.

Draco shook his head. "It's not. It's like there's no escaping it, no matter where I go. I wanted to give you a good day, show you a good time, and now he's spoiled it."

"Hey," Harry said, taking his hand. "It hasn't spoiled anything."

"I didn't think - I just ... I wanted to see my Grand-mère; I haven't seen her since before she passed," he said, looking sad. "I didn't think about my grandfather's portrait, or that he'd say anything. I'm sorry I subjected you to that."

"It's okay, Draco," Harry said. "I'm fine. It hasn't spoiled anything."

"Let's go," the Slytherin said quietly. He led the way out of the house, out to the back garden. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. The garden was lovely. "This was my Grand-mère's favourite place," Draco said softly. He still sounded a bit downcast but now that he was outside, his mood seemed to be improving. "I always helped her prune the roses," he said. His expression was fond.

"It's really nice," Harry said, remembering how he'd had to prune Aunt Petunia's roses through the years; though, unlike Draco, his were hardly fond memories. "My aunt had a garden and I helped prune the roses there," he said, "but it was nothing like this."

"What's your family like?" Draco asked suddenly, looking very curious.

"Bloody awful," Harry muttered.

Draco frowned. "I had heard that you didn't like them, that you hated them, even."

"I mean, that's sort of true, but only because they hated me and treated me like I was rubbish under their shoes - but I'm away from them now so I don't really care anymore."

Draco continued to frown. "But why did they hate you?"

"Because I'm a wizard and they hate magic," Harry said. "They didn't want me - Dumbledore forced me on them." He let out a breath. He still had a lot of anger about Dumbledore. "I guess they could have put me in an orphanage - but they kept me, for some reason. I don't know why. Dumbledore must have implied some kind of threat to make them keep me. Honestly though, I would've been better off at an orphanage." It was true. Voldemort wouldn't have known where to look for him even if he'd a body during the bulk of Harry's childhood. His mother's protection at the Dursley house wasn't as necessary as it had been made to sound. Harry could have gone somewhere else and wherever he went, that house could have been made unplottable and put under a Fidelius Charm; that would have been just as effective. Dumbledore wanted him with the Dursleys though - to ensure Harry would be the perfect puppet, he thought bitterly.

"It was that bad?" Draco asked quietly. "You would rather have grown up in an orphanage?"

"Yeah."

"Have you seen them since ... the Battle?"

"No. They probably think I'm dead. They're probably hoping for it too - well, except maybe my cousin, Dudley."

Draco looked shocked. "They hated you that much?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand," Draco said.

"You wouldn't, though," Harry said quietly. "I've seen your life - I've seen Malfoy Manor and your bedroom and how much your parents love you. You couldn't understand because it's the opposite of what you had. I grew up in a cupboard, Draco," he said bluntly, not holding anything back. "I didn't get a proper bedroom until I got my Hogwarts letter - because they got scared they were being watched. They hated me. They didn't want me in their house. But they were stuck with me."

"What do you mean - you grew up in a cupboard?"

"I slept on a cot in the cupboard under the stairs at their house. That was my bedroom. I was like a house-elf."

"But that's - that's mental," Draco said, his eyes wide, horrified. "That's child abuse. Was no one in the wizarding world looking after your welfare?"

Harry didn't want to talk about it. "It's over now, anyway. What does it matter anymore?"

"Potter," Draco said.

"I'm away from them now," Harry said. "I have the Black house. I'm of age, and I'm heir to two houses. The past doesn't matter anymore."

"But - "

"All that is done with," Harry said firmly. "I want to look forward, not back."

Draco put up a hand, placatingly. "Okay. I'll drop it."

Harry was silent for a moment.

Draco took his hand and pulled him along. "Come with me," he said. "I have something to show you." He led Harry through the garden and out to a huge field. There was a wooden hut off to the side. Draco opened the door and gestured for Harry to come in. There were brooms on the wall -  _very nice_  brooms. "Let's go flying," Draco said, and Harry felt a rush of excitement go through him.

He grinned. "It's been so long since I've gone flying just for fun."

Draco grinned back at him. "Same," he said. He grabbed two of the brooms off the wall, handing one to Harry. Then he opened a box and took something out. It was a Snitch.

"Oh, it's  _on_!" Harry said.

They spent the next hour playing a Seeker to Seeker match, first best of three, then changing it to best of five. Harry won but Draco came close. It was exhilarating flying again, chasing the Snitch, being with Draco - playing a competitive game, but with good will ... and a lot of flirtation.

"That was brilliant," Harry said when they landed back on the ground.

"So what's your prize, Potter?" Draco asked, smiling widely. "You won, fair and square."

Harry pulled Draco to him and kissed him passionately. Draco dropped his broom and snaked his arms around Harry, kissing him back with equal ardour. "God, I want to take you home to my house and snog you senseless," Harry whispered into his ear.

"Let's go then," Draco said quickly, looking just as keen as Harry felt.

They hastily returned the brooms and Snitch to the broom shed, then Harry took Draco's hand and Apparated them straight to his bedroom. He pushed Draco down on the bed and started kissing him: his mouth, his neck, everywhere he could reach. "Merlin, Potter," Draco gasped, kissing him back with fervour. The Slytherin was on his back and Harry was half-laying on him; Draco's arms went around him, his hands clutching Harry's shoulders. They snogged deliriously for a couple of minutes then finally broke apart to catch their breaths. Panting slightly, Harry stared down at Draco, one hand cupping his face. They were both sweaty from their match, so Harry wandlessly cast a cleaning charm over both of them.

Draco looked back at him, his expression dazed and very keen. They both moved at the same time, getting all the way on the bed. Harry crawled over him, straddling him, and Draco pulled him into a heated kiss. This was new ground for Harry. He'd never been like this with Ginny. He'd never  _wanted_  to be like this with Ginny. It was all so clear now - he'd only ever kissed her, and even that had been fairly chaste; he'd never felt the urge to take it beyond that, though he'd been aware that she'd been more than willing. But with Draco, he felt real desire. Harry wanted to kiss him, and touch him. He wanted to feel the Slytherin's body pressed against his. He liked Draco's masculine strength, and the hard lines of his body, the raspy scratch of the stubble on his face, his musky, earthy scent. It was brilliant being like this with him.

They kissed heatedly for a few minutes. Then Harry moved, stretching out on the bed, rolling onto his side and pulling Draco along with him so they were facing each other. Harry wrapped his arms around him, then kissed him again, sliding his hands up the Slytherin's back to his neck and holding him close. Draco melted against him, and completely gave himself over to it. His submissiveness made Harry want to both ravish and protect him. The kisses became tender, sweeter, as Harry held him close. "Have you ever been with anyone like this?" Harry asked in a whisper.

Draco shook his head in answer. "Have you?" he asked.

"No," Harry murmured.

"Have you ever been with ... a boy? Before this?" Draco asked softly.

"No," Harry answered. "Have you?"

"The summer between fifth and sixth year, my mother took me to Bavaria after my father was sent to Azkaban, before I got Marked by the Dark Lord. I met a boy there. I had a little thing with him. Nothing serious - a few kisses. We didn't keep in touch after I went home."

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

"Well, Pansy fancied me so I let her kiss me once. That was enough for me to realise I didn't like girls."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at Draco's tone.

"So ... er, you didn't ... you didn't, er ... go all the way with Weasley's sister?" Draco asked quietly after a moment.

"No."

"With anyone?"

"No," Harry said softly. "You?"

"No," Draco said just as softly. He looked shy suddenly.

"There was so much going on," Harry said. "There was no time for any of that, really." He tightened his arms around Draco. "I don't have much experience," he said softly, " - and it sounds like you don't either. So we should probably take it slow, don't you think? The ... sex part."

"Yeah," Draco said, looking a little relieved. "I mean, I want to ... with you," he whispered shyly, the words making Harry's stomach swoop, "just not quite yet."

Harry kissed him, sweetly, caressing his face. "Agreed," he murmured. "But snogging's okay?" he asked after a moment, wanting to make sure.

"Absolutely," Draco said, smiling his sexy smile, and pulling Harry closer and kissing him.

The kiss quickly turned into a snog. Now that they had set some boundaries, they were more comfortable, and their touches grew bolder.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked, slipping a hand under the hem of Draco's shirt, his fingers brushing the Slytherin's skin.

"Yes," Draco breathed, doing the same to Harry. "Merlin," he breathed, as Harry slowly slid his hands up his back, under his shirt. "Definitely."

It was brilliant, snogging like this. Draco felt so amazing in his arms. Touching him felt amazing.

They snogged blissfully for a few minutes, lost in each other.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted their reverie.

"Harry? Are you here?" Hermione's voice called.

Draco tensed and Harry petted his hip soothingly. "It's okay," he whispered to him. "She knows about us." He called back to Hermione, "Yes, I'm here."

"Can I come in?" she called.

"Um, yeah, just a sec!" he called back, looking at Draco, who looked a little panicked. "It's all right," he whispered. They both sat up and smoothed their clothes down. Draco looked adorably rumpled anyway; Harry couldn't resist grabbing him and giving him another kiss. Then he called out, "Come in."

Hermione opened the door and peeked her head in. She took one look at Harry and Draco and her eyes went wide. "Oh God, sorry," she said hastily, her cheeks turning pink.

"It's okay," Harry said. "Come in."

She came into the room, looking hesitant. "Er, hi, Draco," she said after a moment, calmly, as if she said it all the time. Harry wanted to hug her.

"Hi, Granger," Draco said, sounding equally calm, though Harry could feel how tense the Slytherin was.

"What's up?" Harry asked her.

"Oh ... it's just, it's coming up on five o'clock," she said, "and I know dinner is at six, but I wanted to know if you want to go over early, at half-past five." She was still blushing and Harry could tell she was trying to avoid looking at them too closely.

Harry checked the time; it was a quarter to five. "Um, okay, yeah," he said. He took Draco's hand and squeezed it, saying to him, "I need to talk to Ginny and Ron before dinner." He looked back at Hermione, who was looking at their joined hands, then at Harry. "Yeah, we can go at half five."

She nodded. "Okay," she said. "I'll send Ron the message." She looked at Draco and smiled gamely. "Good to see you, Draco," she said, inclining her head. She turned to leave.

"Wait," Draco said suddenly. "Granger ...er, can I have a word? In private?" She frowned but nodded, and he got up from the bed. "I'll be back in a minute," he said softly to Harry.

Harry watched them leave the room, wondering what Draco wanted to say to Hermione. While he waited for the Slytherin to return, he got up and went to his wardrobe. Opening it, he saw all his new clothes, organised neatly in colour-coordinated rows. He picked out what he was going to wear to dinner.

Finally, after almost ten minutes, Draco returned. He smiled at Harry.

"What was that about?" Harry asked him. "What were you talking to Hermione about?"

"I wanted to clear the air," Draco said softly. "I had a lot to apologise for."

Feeling a great rush of affection for the Slytherin, Harry went over to him and hugged him, then kissed him, his heart swelling.

When they broke apart, Draco pulled out his wand and two coins. "So we can send messages back and forth," he said. He cast the Protean Charm on them both then handed one to Harry, who took it and looked at it. "It's a Franc," Draco said. "The money they use in France."

Harry grinned. "Thank you for taking me there," he said. "It was an amazing day." He kissed Draco, softly. "Listen, I'm going to tell Ginny about us - tonight, before dinner. And Ron too. Neither of them know I'm gay. And Ginny still thinks there's a chance we'll get back together, so she needs to know right away." He put his arms around Draco. "It might be rough," he admitted. "Can I see you after dinner? I'll send you a message when I'm done and I can pick you up and we can come back here, or go wherever you want, whatever."

"Yeah," Draco murmured. "Just send me a message and I'll meet you outside my aunt's house." They kissed, holding onto each other, both reluctant to part.

Finally, Harry took his hand then Apparated them to Andromeda's. "I'll see you later," he said softly, squeezing Draco's hand. Then he stepped back and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

After taking a quick shower, Harry got dressed and ready in record time. He met Hermione in the drawing room with ten minutes to spare.

She smiled at him knowingly. "You look really happy," she said.

"We had an incredible day," he said. "After we went shopping - at a wizarding shopping district called Solaris Street here in London - he took me to Paris for lunch. We went on a boat ride along the Seine to see the city a little then he took me to this cafe that overlooked the Eiffel Tower, where we had lunch."

"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed. "Wow!" she said again. "That's amazing."

"Yeah, it was really great. Then he showed me his house that he used to spend summers at - his grandparents house; he inherited it from his grandmother and wanted to check on it. Then we played a Seeker to Seeker match in the field there. It was brilliant."

She smiled. "It sounds very romantic. And you two are really cute together." After a moment, her expression changed, and she looked at him seriously. "He apologised to me for all the things he said and did over the years. I could tell it was hard for him - uncomfortable - but he was very direct about it. He meant it too, I could tell; it wasn't just to get in my good graces because of you. He really does seem different now."

"I know," Harry said. He was silent for a moment then he said, "I'm worried about how Ron will take it. Ginny too, but more Ron - he really hates him."

"While you talk to Ginny, I can talk to Ron," she offered. "I'll prepare him, so you won't get his first reaction. I'll calm him down if he gets upset. I think it's best if we do it that way."

Harry gave her a grateful look. "Yeah. Thanks."

She checked the time; it was half-past. "Ready?" she asked.

They Apparated to the Burrow.

 

* * *

  - x - x - x -

* * *

 

Telling Ginny was difficult and awkward. On one hand she wasn't that surprised to hear that he was gay - "I had wondered, honestly," she said - and she was sad, having it confirmed that they would never be a couple again, but she seemed to accept it. On the other hand, she was shocked to hear that he was involved with Draco. She didn't believe him at first.

"Yeah, right," she said, laughing as if it were a great joke. "You would never go out with scum like that." When Harry got angry, she realised he was telling the truth. She got very upset and tried to tell Harry all the reasons why Draco Malfoy was the worst possible person in the entire world for Harry to be involved with, but Harry wouldn't hear it. "You don't know what I know," he said. "You don't know him, you don't know what his circumstances were, or what he went through. I do."

Telling Ron was even harder. Even though Hermione had prepared him, Ron was still disbelieving.

"Hermione, you can't possibly think this is okay," Ron said incredulously. "After the way he treated us - treated you ... calling you a you-know-what - "

"Yes, but I told you, he's different now. The war really changed him," Hermione said. "He's apologised for the way he treated me, and it was a sincere apology - which I accepted."

Ron shook his head angrily. "Harry, mate, I don't care that you're gay. But Malfoy is barely a step above Voldemort himself!"

"That's not true!" Harry said hotly.

"Ron, you saw it yourself - he didn't give Harry up at Malfoy Manor," Hermione interjected. "It would have been so easy for him to do it and get back in Voldemort's favour, but he didn't!"

"Maybe not then, but he was ready to give you up in the Room of Requirement," Ron said.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "He never cast any curse at me - it was Crabbe and Goyle who were fighting us, not him."

"That's true," Hermione said, frowning thoughtfully. "He never did cast a curse - at any of us, you're right!"

"I don't care!" Ron shouted. He let out a sharp breath. "Have you two gone mad? He's a bloody Death Eater, and he should be in Azkaban," he said quietly.

They went around in circles, Harry and Hermione defending Draco, and Ron refusing to listen.

Dinner was uncomfortable, and Harry couldn't wait for it to be over. When the meal was finished, Harry thanked Mr and Mrs Weasley, who had clearly noticed the tension throughout the dinner but mercifully didn't ask questions, and then said his goodbyes, telling them he had to be at Hogwarts the following day so he wanted to have an early night.

Hermione stayed behind to talk more to Ron and try to make him see reason, and Harry went outside and sent Draco a message:

_I'm finished with dinner. Can you meet me outside your aunt's house?_

Draco replied:

_Heading outside now. See you soon._

Harry Apparated straight over. Draco was waiting for him at his usual spot. Harry pulled him close, hugging him.

"Can we go to my house?" he asked.

Draco nodded. Harry took his hand and Apparated them to his bedroom. After casting Imperturbable and Muffliato Charms, he looked more closely at Draco. "Is everything okay?" he asked, frowning. Draco seemed off, like something was wrong. "Have you spoken to your mother about ... anything?"

"Not as such. I'm waiting for the right time," Draco said quietly. "I mean, she knows I'm out with you right now, but we didn't have a long conversation about it. I'll probably talk to her tomorrow."

Harry nodded. They sat down on his bed. "So, I told them," he said, taking Draco's hand. "Ginny and Ron."

Draco was tense. "And what was their reaction?"

"Well ... they weren't thrilled. But they'll come around."

"Really? I can't imagine that any of your friends will ever approve of me or think I'm good enough for you ... and they'd be right," Draco finished quietly, pulling his hand away. "I was horrible to you, and your friends. I don't know why you even like me."

Harry stared at him. "Draco, what - "

"I was thinking tonight after I got home, knowing you were going to see your friends and tell them about us - I thought about how I treated you and your friends - remembering the things I said, and did. Not to mention the things I did as a Death Eater to everyone else." The haunted look was back on his face. "You don't know what I did. You might have seen some things but you couldn't have seen it all. I'm a terrible person," he whispered.

"Hold on," Harry said. "Do you regret those things you said and did?"

"Of course! Of course I do! I wish I could take it all back - I wish I could start from the very beginning, knowing what I know now."

"Then that's what matters."

Draco shook his head. He looked as if he might cry. "I was so vicious to you - and Granger and Weasley. And why? Because you rejected me, and because I was so jealous of them for being the ones you chose over me. And I was jealous of you for being the 'Chosen One', and for being so important. I was proud when the Dark Lord made me a Death Eater. It made me feel powerful. It's pathetic. Because I couldn't have you, I set myself against you. I wanted to bring you down. What kind of person does that make me?"

"You were young, and you were spoiled, and you were taught to believe certain things. Yeah, you were a prick, but I think you didn't know better back then. You're different now. You've grown up."

"And what - that absolves me of the terrible things I've done? Not by a long shot. I have nightmares every night - I let the Death Eaters into the school, Potter. I was responsible for Dumbledore's death - no matter what you say," he said, putting a hand up when Harry opened his mouth to disagree. "I was forced to torture Death Eaters who had fallen out of favour, and forced to torture students at Hogwarts when I was there, lest I get tortured myself. I was a coward. And you're the exact opposite. A true hero. You're brave, and noble, and fearless. What the fuck am I? I'm filth." His voice broke on the last word as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Hey, that's not true," Harry said, pulling him close and putting his arms around him. Draco let out a shuddering breath. "You're not filth, don't say that. The fact that you feel guilty, that you're so upset, proves you're not a bad person. You were young, Draco. You believed that Voldemort had the right ideas -  _you were taught_  to believe that. But then you saw the truth. And you regret it. You're nothing like the real Death Eaters. Do you think any of them feel guilty for the things they've done? You were never one of them. You're not your father."

Draco choked on another sob. "I'm not," he said vehemently. "I hate him, Potter. I hate him for joining the Dark Lord and raising me to follow Him too. I hate him for bringing that monster into my life, and into my house." He pulled away and looked at Harry emotionally. "He was only too happy to give you up to the Dark Lord, he didn't care at all - he never had even a moment of hesitation; he fought with Aunt Bellatrix over who got 'the honour' of calling the Dark Lord to come and kill you." Draco let out a choked breath. "I was in survival mode and I was terrified, but at least I didn't give you up - I couldn't do it - "

"I know. I  _know_ ," Harry said.

"And in the Room of Hidden Things - with Crabbe and Goyle - I wasn't going to give you up there either. I was trying to buy you time. Crabbe and Goyle were after you and I had no control over them anymore. You always managed to escape, and I thought you'd somehow manage again, if I could only buy you time - "

"I believe you," Harry said. Draco was really breaking down now, tears falling down his cheeks. It tore at Harry's heart; he pulled Draco to him, back into his arms, holding the Slytherin as he cried. Harry had the feeling that Draco needed this - to cry and let it all out. The Slytherin was traumatised by what he'd been through and needed to process it; Harry understood that because Hermione had explained it to him about his own trauma, when he'd broken down to her. He understood that Draco had been in a constant, unrelenting state of fear for so long - for himself, for his parents, and for Harry - and this was the toll it had taken, and now Draco was finally breaking down. "It's okay," Harry murmured, over and over, rubbing Draco's back. "It's okay."

After a while, Draco's crying died down. Harry stroked the back of his neck, and said softly, "I really like you. I really like the person I've been getting to know. And whatever my friends' reactions, it doesn't matter. I don't care if they don't like it, it won't change anything."

Draco held onto him, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. "I really like you too," he whispered. Harry felt a rush of tenderness for the Slytherin, and tightened his arms around him, gently petting the back of Draco's neck. For a few moments they just stayed there like that. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you," Draco said.

"I know," Harry said softly.

"I regret so much."

"I know." He stroked Draco's back. "But we can only move forward now - and that's good." Draco looked at him, then nodded. "Come on, let's lay down for a bit," Harry whispered. They kicked off their shoes and got fully onto the bed, both stretching out, then Harry pulled Draco close and put his arms around him. They lay there like that for a long time, quiet, just being with each other, cuddling.

"You're working at Hogwarts tomorrow?" Draco asked quietly after a while.

"Yeah."

"Can I see you after?"

"Of course," Harry said. "I was planning on it. Do you want to have dinner?"

Draco nodded, hugging him close.

"We could go see 'Deep Impact' after," Harry said.

"Yeah ... I'd like that," Draco said softly.

It was nice cuddling with him, Harry thought. He'd never really cuddled before. He really liked it.

They ended up falling asleep, but woke up when they heard Athena hoot, having returned from an evening of hunting.

At half-past ten, Harry took Draco home.

"I had such an amazing day with you," he said to the Slytherin as they stood outside the entrance to Andromeda's.

"Me too," Draco said softly.

"See you tomorrow," Harry said.

They kissed one last time, then Harry Apparated home.

Once home, he got ready for bed, putting on a new pair of sleep pyjama bottoms and one of his new t-shirts. Wearing them made him feel close to Draco, knowing he had helped Harry pick them out.

Catching his thoughts, Harry snorted to himself. Merlin, he was really besotted with Draco, wasn't he? He grinned, feeling stupidly happy.

He got into bed. Hermione wasn't back yet but she was keyed into the wards and knew to Apparate in directly when she wanted to come home. She was planning to join Harry at Hogwarts tomorrow. He was happy he had her at least on his side. He wasn't going to let anyone's disapproval affect him, but it was good he had at least one of his best friend's support. Ron would come around. Maybe Hermione had made more progress talking to him ...

With those last thoughts, Harry drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: So things with Harry and Draco have really progressed. As I said before, I know there are some who don't ship Drarry, but this is what's happening in the story right now. It's not going to be forever, but it's what is happening at the moment. This story is about Harry's journey, first and foremost. He's bonded with Tom, but he feels he can't trust him (and for good reason, if we're being realistic and not just counting how hot Tom is and letting that be all that matters) and he doesn't think they could ever have a real relationship because Tom is in a portrait and not in the real world (and he's not thinking at all of resurrecting Tom yet - remember, it's only been eight days since he got the portrait).**
> 
> **So Harry has chosen to focus on Draco instead, who he really likes and cares for and has a major history with. Unlike Tom, Draco is not a murderer and he is capable of great remorse. That means _a lot_ to Harry. As it should. Their relationship needs to happen, for both Harry's and Draco's sakes. They both need it - it's sweet and healing and necessary for Harry's development (and Draco's). **
> 
> **Tom is going through his own stuff right now, which we will learn about soon, and he needs to go through that, for _his_ development. Harry is avoiding him for the time being, and plans to continue avoiding him. It won't last forever, but they need to go through their own things for a bit.**
> 
> **Thanks for all the kudos, bookmarks, and reviews. I really appreciate it all, more than I can say.**


	21. Chapter 21

The following morning Harry got up earlier than usual. With Hermione staying with him, he'd have to be extra careful when paying Voldemort his required daily visit, especially since Myrtle was at the house too and could possibly see Harry without him knowing. He very quietly sneaked up to the fourth floor and went into the room, glancing quickly at the portrait, not saying a word to the Dark Lord and ignoring him when he tried to speak to him. Afterwards, he went downstairs to use the loo, then returned to his bedroom.

He had about an hour until breakfast so he took out his meditation book and tried a couple of exercises from it. It was getting easier for him, he noticed. After meditating, he practised his wandless magic for a little bit, trying some harder spells. That was also getting easier for him. He wasn't successful with every spell he tried, but he found he could do many of them.

Later, he and Hermione had breakfast together. As they ate, they talked about Ron.

"He'll just have to see it for himself," Hermione said. "That's the only way his opinion will change. When he sees how you two are, and sees for himself how Draco has changed, he'll get it."

"I hope so," Harry said.

"Why don't we all go out together, the four of us? You and Draco, and Ron and me. We can go out somewhere, maybe to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink? What are you doing tonight?" Hermione asked.

"Draco and I are going out to dinner and then to the cinema to see a movie," Harry said. "He's avoiding the wizarding world right now so we've been going out to Muggle places." He looked at her seriously. "I'm willing to give it a try - the four of us going out somewhere - but only if Ron can be civil to Draco. And I have to ask Draco if he's okay with it. He's ... fragile right now. Did you know it was Ernie Macmillan and some of his friends who cursed him outside Gringotts? I can tell he's scared it will happen again. And I'm not saying that Ron would curse him or anything, but I can see him losing his temper and saying things - like that he should be in Azkaban or something."

Hermione grimaced, evidently agreeing. "I'll make sure he won't," she promised. "Maybe we could join you for the movie? That way there won't be any talking going on, but then Ron will get a chance to be around him and see how you are together."

"I don't know, I'll have to ask Draco," Harry said.

She nodded. "Okay. And if not tonight, then another night, whenever. Whatever works for you two." She was quiet for a moment. "So ... it was Ernie Macmillan? That's terrible."

"Draco told me he was forced to torture students at Hogwarts when he was there," Harry said. "So I imagine Ernie thought he was giving Draco what he deserved. But he should have known better."

"I think it's going to take time for everyone to heal. Tempers are still high. It's only been three weeks since the war ended," Hermione said quietly.

Harry let out a breath. "I know. I just ... don't want Draco to be hurt any more. He was really upset last night," he confided to her. "He broke down - he feels so much guilt. He hates himself for the things he did, and for what he was forced to do. And Voldemort really messed him up. He's pretty traumatised." He looked at Hermione. "I don't want Ron to make it worse."

"We'll talk to him. He and Draco have a lot of history, and Ron can't just ... let it go that easily. But we'll talk to him. We'll make him understand. He's going to be helping at Hogwarts today. Ginny too," she said.

Harry sighed.

Hermione reached out and squeezed his arm. "Don't let it get to you," she said softly. "I'm going to help with Ron, I promise."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said. "And thanks for being so understanding about everything."

They parted ways to get ready for the day. Harry took a shower and got dressed, then went to look for Myrtle. He couldn't find her anywhere. The last place he checked was the third floor bedroom next to his. Tom wasn't in the painting, he was relieved to see, and Myrtle wasn't in the room either. Giving up, he went to join Hermione in the drawing room.

"I can't find Myrtle," he told her. "She's hiding from me."

"Yeah. I saw her yesterday when you were out with Draco," Hermione said. "She talked to me. She doesn't want to go back to Hogwarts. She said she's made a friend here - the person in that portrait you mentioned."

Harry held back a snort. Yeah, right. Tom was her 'friend' - what a laugh. If only she knew. A thought occurred to him. "Wait. Did you talk to him ... er, the guy in the portrait?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I haven't seen it. I don't even know where it is." To his relief, she changed the subject. "Um ... so, there's something I have for you," she said. "I went out and got it for you yesterday." She reached into her bag and pulled out a book and handed it to him.

He looked at it, and immediately felt his cheeks grow warm. The title of the book was, 'The Gay Wizard: Everything You Need To Know'. He opened it cautiously and the first thing he saw was a moving diagram of two men together, having sex. He made a choking sound. "Hermione! Oh my God."

Hermione was blushing. "We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want. I mean, we can if you  _do_  want to," she said hastily, "but I figured you probably had a lot of questions and this would help answer them."

Harry cleared his throat. "Um ... yeah," he said, his voice a bit squeaky. He cleared his throat again. "Er ... thanks." He stood up. "I'll just ... drop it off upstairs ... and then we can get going to Hogwarts." He excused himself and quickly made his way upstairs with it. Back in his room, he opened it again and flipped through it. There were several chapters of text but there were also a lot of diagrams. Very graphic diagrams. A certain part of his anatomy stirred in interest as he watched one diagram illustrate a man giving another man manual stimulation. He snapped the book closed, flushing. Merlin, now was  _not_ the time for this. He let out a breath, willing his body to calm down.

When he got back downstairs he and Hermione Apparated to Hogsmeade. Luna and Neville had just arrived themselves, and a moment later, Ron arrived with Ginny. The walk to Hogwarts was a little tense but the presence of Luna and Neville kept the conversation light.

In the Great Hall, they were pleased to see more of their friends and old members of the DA: Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, the Patil twins, Terry Boot, and Michael Corner. After they'd exchanged greetings and talked for a few minutes, catching up, McGonagall called everyone to order and gave out instructions. They would be working in their respective dormitories.

Harry followed his friends up the stairs to the seventh floor, trailing well behind them, lost in thought. He was thinking about Draco and the night before, remembering how Draco cried in his arms.

"Everything all right, Harry?" a voice said softly, beside him. It was Luna.

"Yeah," he murmured absently.

"Wrackspurt got you?"

He shook his head. "No, just thinking," he said.

"Are you and Ron fighting?" she asked softly. "I could tell something was wrong back there."

He sighed. "Not fighting, exactly," he said quietly. "More like a disagreement about something."

She patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll work things out," she said.

They made their way up the stairs and caught up with their friends, then the two groups split up to go to their respective dormitories.

Harry and his fellow Gryffindors were put to work in their Common Room, which had been badly damaged during the battle. They spent the next few hours cleaning up the rubble and restoring whatever they could. It was hard work but after dividing up into teams, they managed to get a lot done.

At noon, they broke for lunch, which was served in the Great Hall. As they ate, Professor McGonagall made some announcements. She talked about the plan for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T students to have the option of either doing an intensive summer session or repeating the full year.

Hermione was excited about the prospect of returning to school. "I'll want to do the full year, of course," she said, and Ron groaned. "Maybe the summer session too."

"Really?" Ron said, giving Harry a horrified look.

Harry smiled. Ron might not be happy about Draco, but at least he was still acting like Harry's friend.

After lunch, they got back to work in the dormitories. An hour later, they finished with the Common Room, and Harry took a break to send a message to Draco:

_What time do you want to have dinner?_

Draco replied:

_Is 6 o'clock too early?_

Harry smiled and answered:

_No, not too early. I'll see you at 6._

He went back to work, and spent the next few hours helping to clean up the boys dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. At five o'clock, they were done for the day.

As Harry and his friends walked to Hogsmeade, Harry noticed that Ginny and Neville were walking closely together, engrossed in a conversation no one else could hear. Neville had changed over the past year. He had grown a few inches taller, and he was very fit now. He was no longer a timid boy, but a man; and he carried himself with confidence. The way Ginny was looking at Neville, Harry could tell she really liked him. He knew they had become close over the past year when they were at Hogwarts leading the resurrected DA with Luna. Maybe she had liked Neville for a while, but thought she would be getting back together with Harry so she didn't act on it. But now she was free to do so.

Harry felt no jealousy; he was pleased for her, and for Neville.

Luna, who was walking next to him, saw him looking at them and said quietly, "You don't seem to mind." They were at the back of the group, a little behind everyone, so he said, "No, I'm glad." Luna nodded. "You've moved on too," she said softly.

He looked at her. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.

"Whoever she is, I can tell she makes you happy," Luna said softly.

Harry cast a wandless Muffliato Charm, just in case anyone could hear them. "It's not a she," he said, then waited for her reaction.

"Oh. Well, I can tell he makes you happy," she amended. After a moment she said, "Is that what the disagreement with Ron is about?"

"Well, sort of ... though not exactly. It's more who he is specifically." He gazed at Luna. She was looking at him encouragingly and it made him want to tell her. "It's ... Draco. Draco Malfoy."

She nodded, looking entirely unsurprised.

"That doesn't shock you?" he asked.

"No." She smiled serenely.

"It doesn't shock you that I'm with ... a Death Eater?" Harry said, wanting to see what she'd say.

"But he wasn't a real Death Eater, not really," she said. "His heart wasn't in it at all. I could see that when I was at Malfoy Manor. It was obvious. Even at school, before that. He was very unhappy. And he never enjoyed having to punish the students, but he was too scared to disobey the Carrows."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I know. He was in an impossible situation." He let out a breath, then looked at her. "I'm glad you saw it too." He was silent for a moment, then he said, "But ... even so, you're not shocked that it's him in particular that I'm ... involved with?"

"Oh, I always knew you liked him, underneath it all. You were always staring at him. And he was always staring at you, when you weren't looking."

"Hey, Harry!" Seamus called suddenly, turning around. "We're going to have a drink at the Three Broomsticks, mate," he said, indicating himself, Dean, and the Patil twins. "You in? You and Luna - and you - " he said, turning to the others, "Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny - let's all get a drink!"

Harry cancelled the Muffliato Charm and he and and Luna caught up with everyone. Hermione and Ron and Neville and Ginny were all up for having a drink together. Harry smiled and said, "I would love to join you guys, but I have to be somewhere at six, so I need to get home."

Ron scowled a little but didn't say anything.

"No worries, mate," Seamus said. "We'll do it again, I'm sure," he said with a grin. He looked at Luna. "You coming, Luna?"

"Yes, okay," she said. "That would be nice."

Hermione slowed so she could walk alongside Harry and held him back for a moment. After everyone had moved far enough ahead of them, she cast a Muffliato Charm for good measure then asked, "So, you're going out to dinner and then the movie?"

"Yes. I'll ask Draco if you and Ron can join us for the movie," he said quietly, "but I don't know what he'll say."

"I mentioned it to Ron and he said he'd be civil, for your sake. He's never been to a movie before so he actually seemed excited about the idea. Not so much about Draco being there too, but he would like to go, and he promised he'd be polite."

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll ask."

"Um ... there's another thing," she said. She bit her lip, hesitating. "Can Ron ... er, spend the night tonight, at Grimmauld Place?" she asked, blushing, not looking at him.

"Yes. As long as you don't forget to cast Imperturbable and Muffliato Charms," he said drily.

Her blush deepened. "Harry!"

He chuckled. He had just been joking, but then he saw her expression, and he realised there was something to it. "Oh my God, really?" he said in a shocked whisper. "You're going to - ? Tonight?"  

She looked down, embarrassed. "Maybe," she whispered, still not looking at him. She cleared her throat then said, "You and Luna looked deep in conversation."

Harry blinked at the abrupt change in subject, but went with it, respecting her obvious wish to not discuss it further. "Yeah. I told her about Draco. She wasn't even surprised. Was I that obvious?" he asked. "Could everyone tell I liked Draco ... like, in sixth year?"

"I don't think so. I could tell, but I don't think anyone else could. Well, maybe Ron ... a little. When I talked to him last night while you were talking to Ginny - I first told him that you're gay, then I told him there was someone you liked, and he guessed immediately that it was Draco."

"I was in such denial about it myself, in sixth year. But I was pretty obsessed with him, I know," he said.

"He was all you talked about," she said softly, her eyes kind. "I mean, you were right about him being a Death Eater ... but your fixation seemed like ... more than you trying to figure out what he was up to." She paused. "But then suddenly you were with Ginny, so I thought maybe you got over it. Though you still talked about him all the time."

"I think I got together with Ginny partly because of my feelings for him," he said honestly. "I knew he was a Death Eater and that he was up to something ... but I was so attracted to him, and I hated myself for it. Though I'm only realising that now, looking back - I wasn't fully conscious of it at the time; I was in denial. I feel bad about it, like I led Ginny on ... but I didn't realise that's what I was doing."

"Don't feel bad," she said. "You did the best you could. It must have been very confusing, to have such conflicting feelings about someone who not only was awful to us for all those years, but who was also a boy. And a Death Eater ... and Lucius Malfoy's son."

"Yeah. Exactly," he said. "Anyway, I can see Ginny likes Neville now, so that's good.

Hermione looked relieved. "Yes, I noticed too. They seem to be ... interested in each other."

"I'm glad. They both deserve to be happy. They'll make a great couple. They're perfect for each other, really."

"Yeah. I think so too," she said.

They reached the apparition point. "So anyway ... I'll ask Draco about the movie and send you a message," Harry said.

"Okay." She cancelled the Muffliato Charm and Harry called out to everyone, "See you all tomorrow!" Then he Apparated home.

It was half-past five so he quickly picked out the clothes he wanted to wear - jeans, a black t-shirt, and a stylishly-cut dark leather jacket that Draco had particularly liked on him - then hurried down to the first floor, to the bathroom. After taking a shower, he brushed his teeth, then got dressed. When he returned to his room for a final look at himself in the wardrobe mirror, he noticed the book Hermione got him, still sitting on the bedside table. He was planning to bring Draco to his room later and the last thing he wanted was for Draco to see it. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his hiding place in the wardrobe. Then he promptly pulled it back out and had a look through it, unable to resist.

He still had a few minutes before it was time to go. Staring at a diagram of one man performing oral sex on another man, he felt himself flush. He flipped to a chapter that had several spells listed: spells for lubrication, spells for increasing sexual pleasure, and for increasing stamina, spells for preparing a man for penetrative sex ... He snapped the book shut. He would read the book all the way through, later, and not when he was just about to see Draco. Putting the book back in the hiding place in the wardrobe, he took a few breaths to clear his mind and calm his body down.

At six o'clock he Apparated to Andromeda's. Draco was waiting for him at the entrance to the estate. Harry was very happy to see him; he pulled the Slytherin close and kissed him softly. "I missed you," he murmured between kisses. "Me too," Draco breathed, hugging him tightly.

"Where shall we go for dinner?" Harry asked when they finally broke apart.

"Wherever you like," Draco said. He looked really handsome. His hair was loose, rather than slicked back, and it really suited him.

Harry took his hand and Apparated them to London, a street over from Grimmauld Place. There was a restaurant he had passed by a few times that he thought they might try. They went inside and were led to a table. It was a posh restaurant, but cosy, with dark wood-panelled walls and low lighting.

"This is nice," Draco said once they were seated, looking around.

Harry couldn't stop staring at him.

"What?" Draco said.

"You look really nice with your hair like that," Harry said.

Draco's cheeks turned pink. "Thank you," he said softly, looking a bit flustered. It was adorable.

The waiter came over, bringing them menus, and they listened as he recited the specials. They both ordered the steak with roast potatoes and a glass of red wine.

When they were alone again, Draco said, "How was it today at Hogwarts?"

"We worked on the dorms," Harry told him. "The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dorms," he clarified.

They talked about that for a few minutes, then Harry changed the subject to something more pressing. "So ... um ... I have a question for you," he said after a short pause. "You still want to go to the movie, right?" Draco nodded, so he continued. "The thing is ... er, Hermione and Ron were hoping they could maybe join us," he said quietly. "Ron's never been to see a movie before, apparently."

Draco stared at him. "So you're saying Weasley wants to see the movie ... with us?" He looked surprised. "He said that?"

"Well, Hermione mentioned it - I didn't talk to Ron directly about it," Harry said. "Hermione's staying at my house for a little while and we were talking this morning and she asked what you and I were doing tonight, so I told her. She said it might be fun if we could all go together ... and I guess she spoke to Ron about it later today and he agreed."

Draco frowned, looking skeptical. "Weasley's fine with us now?"

"Um ... not 'fine' exactly ... but trying to be open-minded?"

Draco was quiet for a moment. "It's important to you? That they join us?"

"I mean, I would like it if we could all get along, and this would be a step towards that ... but only if you're okay with it. It's all right if you're not, if you want to wait to do something with them."

"No ... it's okay," Draco said quietly after a moment. "They can come." Harry could tell he was reluctant about it but that he wanted to make Harry happy.

"You're sure? It doesn't have to be tonight, honestly."

Draco smiled at Harry's anxious tone. "I'm sure, Potter. Relax. It's fine."

"Okay. Thanks," he said softly. He took the Galleon out of his pocket. "I'll just let Hermione know." He sent her a message, telling her it was a go, and she replied:

_Great! Which cinema and what time?_

He answered:

_I don't know. We're having dinner now so I don't have access to a newspaper. Can you check the listings for the Islington cinema, for the movie Deep Impact - between 7:30 and 9:00?_

She replied:

_Okay. I'll let you know as soon as I can._

He put the Galleon away, and a moment later, the waiter came with their food. After he left, Harry cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell, then picked up his fork and knife. "She's checking what time it's playing. She'll let us know when she finds out," he said to Draco. They both started eating. The food was delicious. They were both quiet for a minute while they ate.

"I spoke to Mother today," Draco said suddenly, and Harry, who was swallowing, almost choked.

"Really? What did you say? What did she say?" he asked nervously.

"Well ... she doesn't seem to mind that I'm ... gay," he said quietly.

"That's good," Harry said. He gave Draco an encouraging look. "Did you tell her we're together?" he asked when Draco didn't go on.

Draco nodded. "She said she'd figured as much."

"What else did she say?"

"She said ... she's worried that I'm going to get hurt," he said softly after a moment.

Harry wondered if Draco was worried about that himself; he put his fork down and reached across the table and put his hand over Draco's. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said earnestly. "And I won't let anyone else hurt you either."

"You're such a Gryffindor," Draco scoffed, but his expression was soft and he looked pleased by Harry's words.

Harry smiled. "Yep. Can't help it." He was about to ask more about Draco's conversation with Narcissa when he felt the Galleon burning in his pocket. Taking it out, he read Hermione's message out loud:

_Deep Impact is playing at the cinema in Islington at 7:30. Is that ok?_

He looked at Draco, who nodded. Harry replied:

_Do you want to meet there or at Grimmauld Place?_

She responded:

_We can meet at Grimmauld Place at 7 or at the cinema at 7:15. Whichever works for you._

Harry replied:

_We're still eating. I'll let you know._

He put the Galleon back in his pocket. "You're sure it's okay?" he asked Draco. "You can still change your mind."

"Merlin, Potter, stop worrying," Draco said. "I can handle going to a movie with your friends for a couple of hours."

Harry laughed. "Yeah. Sorry." He took a sip of his wine. "So ... did your mother say anything else?"

Draco shrugged. "She's more concerned about my future in general. The N.E.W.T.s are going to be in September, instead of next month, so she wanted to talk about that."

"Oh. So ... you're going to do the summer session at Hogwarts?"

"I ... no. I don't think so. They won't want me there, for one thing," he said, his face shuttering. "What about you? Do you know what you want to do - the summer session or the full year?"

"I don't know. Hermione said today she wants to do both. I'll pick one or the other, I guess - not both," Harry said quietly. He looked at Draco. "I had thought ... maybe we could go together - you and me."

"Potter ... I wish it could be like that," Draco said quietly. "But I was a Death Eater. They're not going to want me there." When Harry opened his mouth to argue, he put up a hand. "And I'm nearly ready to take the exams anyway. I studied hard this year - it was the only way I could cope with everything. I don't think I need the summer session."

Harry was disappointed. While he had worked on the dorms earlier, he had spent some time imagining him and Draco at Hogwarts together.

"Anyway, you should probably do the full year since you missed it entirely," Draco said gently. "There's a lot to cover - the N.E.W.T.s are going to be tough, much harder than the O.W.L.s, and you'll want to be fully prepared."

Harry shrugged, feeling a bit morose suddenly. He didn't want to think about exams or intensive studying or, now that he was thinking about it, being at school surrounded by a large number of people who would only see him as the 'saviour' and the the defeater of Voldemort. His fame had been bad enough before; now it was going to be so much worse. Just the thought of it was exhausting. Besides that, how would he even be able to go to Hogwarts, now that he had the portrait? "Maybe I won't go back at all," he said quietly after a moment. "I don't know yet what I want to do - whether I want to go back to school or just relax for a while until I figure out what it is I'd like to do with my life. I used to want to be an auror, but now ... I don't know." He looked at Draco. "Do you know what you want to do - for a career?"

"I'm interested in Alchemy," Draco said after a moment. "I did an independent study of it this year and found it to be quite fascinating, and I have an aptitude for it. I'd like to study it further. What I'd really like is to be an apprentice to a Master Alchemist. I don't know if that's ever going to happen though," he said, looking downcast. "I doubt anyone will want to take me on. Certainly not in Britain, at least. There are only a handful of them here and none of them will want to work with a former Death Eater."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. He knew nothing about Alchemy, nor what it entailed to become an apprentice. And what Draco said was probably true; he was going to have a hard time getting opportunities because he had been a Death Eater.

They had finished eating, so Harry lifted the Notice-Me-Not Spell and the waiter came to take their plates. After he left, Harry said, "So much has happened and the war only just ended. It's probably too soon to think about these things, really. Maybe we should try to be in the present and not think too much about the past or future."

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea," Draco concurred.

A moment later, the waiter returned with the check, and Draco insisted on paying since he'd got some Muggle money from Gringotts the day before. Harry checked the time; it was a quarter to seven. "So ... we can either meet Hermione and Ron at my house in fifteen minutes or at the cinema in half an hour - do you have a preference?"

"Whatever you want," Draco said agreeably.

"Okay." Harry wanted to be alone with Draco for as long as possible so he sent Hermione a message telling her they'd meet them at the cinema at 7:15 and that he'd get all the tickets. "So ... we have half an hour then," he said to Draco. "What would you like to do?"

Draco half-smiled, half-smirked. "What do you think?" he said flirtatiously, which sent a flutter to Harry's stomach.

"Yeah, let's go," Harry said quickly. They made their way outside, to the alley next to the restaurant, then Harry took his hand and Apparated them straight to his bedroom. As soon as they landed, they started kissing. After a minute, Harry guided him backwards, still kissing him, and pushed him down onto the bed; Draco pulled him down with him, the Slytherin landing on his back and Harry falling on top of him.

The kiss grew more heated. Harry slid his fingers into Draco's hair, loving its silky texture, and kissed him deeply, hungrily. The way their bodies were pressed together felt so good. It was very arousing. Feeling a surge of desire, he tightened his grip in Draco's hair, and Draco gasped, apparently liking his aggressiveness.

"Do you like this?" Harry asked, pulling the Slytherin's hair a little more firmly as he kissed his neck then began nibbling on it. God, Draco smelled amazing.

"Yes," Draco gasped, shivering when Harry scraped his teeth against the tender spot below Draco's ear. "Merlin, Potter," he breathed, his hands in Harry's hair, keeping him in place. "Keep doing that."

It made him feel powerful, having Draco at his mercy like this, needy and so keen. He repeated the action, scraping his teeth against the tender spot on Draco's neck, and Draco shivered and made a sound at the back of his throat. Harry did it again, and then again. Every time he did it, the Slytherin gasped and shivered. It was really hot, his responsiveness. Inflamed, Harry claimed his mouth again, biting the Slytherin's bottom lip, then soothing it with his tongue, then gently biting it again; Draco gasped and writhed against him, his hands clutching Harry's shoulders as Harry kissed him and plundered his mouth.

After a minute, Harry pulled back to look at him and catch his breath. Draco looked utterly wrecked. His eyes were glazed, his lips were pink and swollen, his skin was flushed, and his hair was deliciously rumpled. He looked so sexy. Harry wanted to devour him. He let out a breath. Merlin, he was really turned on. And so was Draco; Harry could feel it - they were both half-hard, which was very hot ... but not wholly appropriate, considering that they were going to have to meet Hermione and Ron soon; they had to slow down. Harry kissed Draco again, sweetly this time, cupping his face with one hand and gently brushing his fingers through Draco's hair with the other. Draco liked that too, melting into the kiss with a soft sigh.

"We have to go soon," Harry murmured after a few minutes. "But we can come back here after the movie. If you want," he said, not wanting to presume.

"Definitely," Draco said, stroking the back of Harry's neck and resting his forehead against Harry's.

They got up a moment later. Harry pulled Draco close and kissed his cheek sweetly then took his hand. "Ready?" he asked.

Draco nodded. He looked a bit dreamy.

Harry Apparated them to the alley next to the cinema. After buying the tickets they went into the lobby to wait for Hermione and Ron, who weren't there yet.

"Thank you for doing this - for letting them join us," Harry said softly.

Draco smiled at him, his face soft.

Harry felt a rush of affection for him. The way he was looking at Harry made Harry's heart swell.

Draco moved closer to him, brushing his fingers against Harry's hand and squeezing it for a moment. Harry knew the Slytherin wanted to hold his hand, full stop, but didn't feel comfortable doing it out in the open like this. Being gay wasn't fully accepted in either the wizarding or Muggle world, and could result in harrassment. They could probably get away with a bit more in London, but it wasn't a sure thing that they wouldn't be bothered if they acted demonstrably like a couple.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione and Ron approaching. He turned to look at them; Ron was staring at Draco as if he'd never seen him before, his eyes wide, almost disbelieving. Harry understood; Ron had never seen Draco like this - casual, not sneering, his face open.

Hermione was smiling at the two of them - him and Draco - as she and Ron walked up to them. "Hi, Harry. Hi, Draco," she said amiably.

"Hi," Harry said.

Draco nodded at her. "Granger," he greeted. He looked at Ron and inclined his head. "Weasley."

Ron nodded back at him. "Malfoy," he said, a bit stiffly, but he seemed to be trying.

"Did you get the tickets?" Hermione asked Harry.

Harry held them up, giving her and Ron their tickets, but keeping his and Draco's.

Ron looked around, curiously gazing at the concession stand and the other people in the lobby.

Hermione asked Draco, "Have you ever been to a movie before? This is Ron's first time."

Draco answered, "Yes, I went a few times when I was younger, and Potter and I were here the other night. We saw the movie 'Gattaca'."

"How was it?" she asked them.

"Brilliant," they both said at the same time.

Harry looked at Draco; they both laughed.

"We should probably get our seats, before it gets too full," Hermione suggested. "We don't need to get drinks," she whispered. "I brought some in my bag."

"That's against the rules," Harry said in a mock scandalised tone.

Hermione smacked his arm lightly and Ron and Draco both chuckled, then looked at each other, surprised to be sharing a laugh.

"What did you bring?" Harry whispered.

"Butterbeer and some chocolate liqueur," she whispered.

"You brought alcohol?" Harry said in surprise.

"Merlin, say it louder next time, mate," Ron said.

"Well, we  _are_  of age," she said primly, her cheeks growing pink. "I thought it might make it more fun."

They went into the cinema and found seats in the back row, Draco on one end, Harry next to him, Hermione next to Harry, and Ron next to Hermione on the other end.

Once they were seated, Harry cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell.

"Did you just cast a privacy spell?" Hermione whispered, frowning.

"Yeah - a Notice-Me-Not Spell," Harry said softly.

"I felt it but I didn't see your wand," she said, still frowning.

"Potter cast it wandlessly," Draco said, looking at her strangely.

"Wait, what?" Hermione said.

"You can cast a wandless Notice-Me-Not Spell?" Ron said. He looked shocked.

"Say it louder next time, Ron," Harry said drily.

"Since when can you do wandless magic?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide.

"Wait. You didn't know he can do wandless magic?" Draco whispered, looking surprised.

"Merlin," Harry said. "Yes, I can do a bit of wandless magic," he said to Hermione and Ron. "I've been practising recently and I can do a few spells, that's all."

Draco laughed. "A few spells," he said, shaking his head. "He can do a wandless Glamour, for Merlin's sake," he said.

"You can?" Hermione said. "That's amazing." She looked impressed, and a bit envious. "What else can you do?"

"I don't know," Harry said, getting a little uncomfortable. Was it really that big a deal?

"I've seen him Summon and Vanish things and Conjure things," Draco said helpfully.

"Really?" Hermione said. "You can do a wandless Conjuring Spell?"

"I can cast a Muffliato Charm too," Harry said, "which maybe I should do, if you all are going to talk so loudly about it."

"Do it," Ron said, looking interested. "Cast it."

Harry cast the spell and Ron and Hermione goggled at him.

"Wow, mate. That's very impressive," Ron said appreciatively.

Harry wanted to change the subject. "So, you brought drinks?" he said to Hermione.

"Yes." She opened her bag. "We can have a shot of the chocolate liqueur first," she said, rummaging through the bag and pulling out a small bottle. "Hold this," she said to Harry, handing it to him. She rummaged some more through the bag and pulled out four glasses.

Harry helped her pour out the shots then handed them out. They all raised their glasses and said, "Cheers," downing the shots in one go.

It tasted really good. "Nice," Harry said.

"Good choice, Granger," Draco said approvingly.

Ron murmured his agreement.

Hermione smiled, looking pleased. "Maybe another then?" she asked. She pulled the bottle back out, then took off the cap. "Glasses," she said, and everyone brought their glasses in. She poured a shot into each of them.

"To the war being over!" Hermione said, and they all raised their glasses, then drank.

"You're brilliant, Hermione," Ron said, a bit besottedly. Harry remembered suddenly that Ron would be spending the night at Grimmauld Place, and then had the sudden thought that maybe that's why Hermione had brought alcohol. She did seem a bit frenetic - not nervous exactly, but a bit ... keyed up. 

Ron turned to look at some people coming into their row, who were taking the seats next to him; Harry gave Hermione a look, eyebrows raised, and she seemed to understand immediately because she blushed. Harry smiled at her and winked, and her blush deepened.

He turned to Draco and smiled, feeling very happy that he was there with him. He took the Slytherin's hand, resting their joined hands on Draco's thigh; Draco looked at him, smiling softly, and intertwined their fingers. Harry heard Ron make a choked sound, then another sound when Hermione elbowed him.

The lights went out and the trailers started. Ron asked a lot of questions about the trailers, whispering them to Hermione, who finally got a bit annoyed and shushed him. She dug in her bag and pulled out four bottles of butterbeer, handing them out without a word.

Finally, the movie started. They all got engrossed in the film. It was a good story, and Harry quickly got caught up in it. The ending was unexpectedly emotional. Harry found himself getting very choked up at the President's speech, when he said, "Cities fall, but they are rebuilt. And heroes die, but they are remembered. We honor them with every brick we lay, with every field we sow, with every child we comfort and then teach to rejoice in what we have been re-given. Our planet, our home. So, now, let us begin."

As the credits began rolling and the lights came up, Harry noticed they all were similarly affected. Draco was squeezing his hand tightly, and Ron was swallowing a lot; both looked like they were trying not to cry. Hermione was openly crying, wiping tears from her eyes and sniffling. Draco took out a handkerchief and silently gave it to her, and she took it from him with a grateful nod and used it to wipe her tears away.

They waited for the cinema to empty, all of them quiet, lost in thought. That final speech had really hit home, and they were all thinking about the war, about what had been lost, and what needed to be rebuilt. The mood was intense. Ron was obviously thinking about Fred and looked to be on the verge of tears. Draco was feeling guilty; Harry could feel it radiating from him.

The Slytherin wasn't the only one wracked with guilt - Harry was also feeling guilty. If he had only found the Horcruxes sooner, so many people would still be alive. Fred was dead because of him. Ron's family was torn apart because of him. As if she knew what Harry was thinking, Hermione put her hand on his arm and squeezed it. He looked at her; she gave him a meaningful look and shook her head as if to say, _Stop what you're thinking_. After a minute, they all got up from their seats and made their way down the stairs and out of the cinema.

"I know we're all feeling a bit raw," Hermione said when they got outside. "I think maybe we should go for a drink, to decompress."

Harry agreed. Draco and Ron were both quiet but they didn't say no, so Harry said, "We can go to the pub by my house. The one by that restaurant we went to a couple of times," he said to Hermione.

She nodded. "We'll meet you there in a few minutes," she said.

"Okay." He turned to Draco and took his hand. Instead of Apparating them to the pub, he Apparated them to his bedroom first so they could have some privacy and talk for a few minutes. When they landed and Draco saw where they were, he went and sat down heavily on the bed; Harry sat down next to him.

"I know what you're thinking," he said softly to the Slytherin. "I know you're feeling guilty."

Draco looked down at the floor. "Of course I am!" he whispered emotionally. "You three are all heroes, and what am I? Death Eater filth," he said in a choked voice.

"You're not filth, stop saying that," Harry said, taking his hand. "And you were a Death Eater because you didn't have a choice."

"But I did. I chose it, Potter. At least in the beginning."

"You didn't though - listen," Harry said, when Draco looked at him sharply, opening his mouth to disagree, "the choice was made for you because of who your father was and the world you were raised in. You were born into it. You did what was expected of you, what you were trained to do. But then you came to see what it was really like and you regretted it. That's what matters now."

Draco shook his head. "You're giving me too much credit. Maybe I was born into that world and raised to follow the Dark Lord; and maybe you're right, and I had no choice - but I still could have been a nicer person. I wasn't though - I was a petty, jealous, vindictive prick. You're a genuinely nice person, Potter - you're an amazing person, who is genuinely kind, and forgiving, and honourable, and fucking brave. I don't know what you're doing with me. You deserve so much better than me."

"Don't say that," Harry said sharply. "I don't 'deserve' anything - I don't think like that. I'm with you because I want to be with you. Because I like you." He moved closer and put his arm around him. "I really like you," he said softly. "I like being with you. You're a much better person than you think you are, Draco." Harry hated the haunted look in Draco's eyes. "The past is over. And everything is going to be different now."

Draco looked at him. "I want it to be. I want to be a different person. A better person."

"I know. And you are - you already are that person, that's what I'm saying." He pulled Draco close and pressed their foreheads together. After a moment, Draco relaxed; he let out a breath then put his arms around Harry, hugging him. Harry ran his fingers through the Slytherin's hair, gently.

"C'mon, let's go meet your friends," Draco said after a minute.

"Okay. But just for one drink," Harry said. They stood up and Harry took his hand, then Apparated them to the alley next to the pub. When they went inside, they found Hermione and Ron already at a table.

"We just got here," Hermione said as Harry and Draco sat down. Ron nodded at them. "All right?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah. You?" Harry asked him quietly.

"Yeah," Ron said. He was holding Hermione's hand under the table, and seemed to have shaken off his sombre mood.

A waiter came over. "Ready to order?" he asked.

Harry and Draco ordered brandies, and after a quick deliberation Hermione and Ron decided they'd have brandies too.

"You're all over eighteen?" the waiter asked.

"Yep," Harry said, as the others nodded.

"All right, back in a minute," the waiter said.

A band was setting up on the stage. Harry looked at Draco, who smiled at him.

"Draco and I were here Saturday night," Harry told Hermione and Ron. "There was another band that played that night - we really enjoyed it, didn't we, Draco?"

"Yes, they were quite good," Draco said.

The waiter came with their drinks. When he left, Harry cast a Notice-Me-Not Spell. Hermione looked at him. "Did you just cast a privacy spell?"

Harry nodded, then picked up his glass; the others did the same. "You're meant to sip it," Harry warned Ron and Hermione, in case they didn't know. They all took a sip of their drinks. Ron seemed to like it; Hermione made a slight face at the taste but gamely took another sip. The brandy filled Harry with that warm, glowing feeling he remembered from the other night; it was very pleasant. The band was about to start so Harry and Draco moved their chairs, getting into a better position to see the stage.

After a minute, the music started. Harry took Draco's hand, feeling good, feeling happy to be with him, and with Hermione and Ron. The band was good; they played a similar style of music as the band from the other night. Draco looked at Harry and smiled, his mood happier now too. He took a sip of his brandy, and began caressing Harry's hand with his fingers. Harry leaned over and said into Hermione's ear, "This is great but we're only staying for the one drink, okay?"

Hermione gave him a knowing smile and said in his ear, "You two really are cute together. He's like an entirely different person with you. Ron is a bit in shock."

Harry smiled and took a sip of his brandy. After the third song, Draco finished his drink then excused himself to go to the loo. When he came back, he whispered in Harry's ear, "I paid for the drinks - not just ours, all of them." Harry squeezed his arm and said, "Do you want to go then?"

Draco nodded. Harry knocked back the rest of his brandy then turned to Ron and Hermione and said, "Draco paid for the drinks. We're off to Grimmauld Place now. See you tomorrow." He and Draco stood up. Draco politely bid Hermione and Ron goodbye, then they took their leave. As soon as they got outside, Harry took Draco's hand and Apparated them to his bedroom.

"Can you stay for a while?" Harry asked him.

Draco smiled. "Yes."

Harry pushed him onto the bed. "Good." Not taking his eyes off Draco, he took off his jacket and threw it over the chair by his bed; Draco watched him, his expression heated, and took his own jacket off, throwing it onto the chair over Harry's.

They both kicked off their shoes, then Harry got down onto the bed, pushing Draco onto his back and crawling over him and straddling him. Draco pulled him into a sultry kiss, sliding his hands up Harry's back and urging him closer so their bodies were pressed together. After a few minutes of passionate snogging, the kisses turned sweeter, softer.

Harry slid his fingers into Draco's hair and the Slytherin sighed, melting against him. It was brilliant being together like this. They kissed for a few more minutes. Then Harry changed position so he was fully laying down, and pulled Draco into his arms for a cuddle.

"This feels so nice," Harry murmured, holding him close. Draco hummed in agreement, his face buried in Harry's neck. They ended up dozing off for a little while, waking up just before midnight.

"You're working at Hogwarts tomorrow?" Draco asked after Harry Apparated them to the entrance to Andromeda's house.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Can I see you after?"

"Definitely."

They made plans to meet at 6 o'clock. Harry pulled him close for a final kiss, then Apparated home.

After using the loo, he got ready for bed. He was knackered; it had been a long day. He got into bed, wishing Draco were still with him, wishing he could have spent the night. Would the Slytherin want to spend the night soon?

Sighing, he hugged his pillow; it smelled of Draco's cologne. He sighed again, holding it close and inhaling deeply. It wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I just want to say how much I appreciate all of you for the support you've given me and for sticking with this story for so long. When I started it I was very, very ill and I wasn't sure whether I was going to make it through or not, which is part of the reason the story has taken so long to write up to this point. Thanks so much for the kudos, bookmarks, and reviews. It means so much to me.


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